Mad Love Series, Part II: From the Ashes
by KELZTASTiC
Summary: sequel to Burn Me Down. harley's life complicates.
1. From the Ashes

If you have reached Part II before reading Part I, please read that first:

.net/s/4460474/1/Mad_Love_Series_Part_I_Burn_Me_Down

**Mad Love Series, Part II: From the Ashes**

Prologue:

She tries to make it through,

Make it all worthwhile again

He breaks her down but

She comes out stronger.

She has been hurt before

But she has made it through

Feel her heart in her chest

To know she's alive

After all he's done.

She had to change her ways

To survive, to believe again

But she's ready to be new

Her feelings won't take her down

Her emotions aren't in the way

Not anymore.

She's real now.

She's ready to break out, break free

Of his chains

Of all his lies and deceit

A new self is born

She will no longer be broken

She will no longer be in pain

He will go down

She wants to feel his heart in her hand

To break it like he did hers

She believes in herself now

She is not weak

She's the strongest she's ever been

And from the ashes, she'll begin again.

Chapter 1: From the Ashes

_I will now rise from the ashes_

_Don't call me pretentious_

_I'm sitting here making my own rules_

_And if I fall from the ceiling_

_You'll be down there waiting._

"_Rise from the Ashes," Quietdrive_

It had been 3 months now. Three months that I had been waiting to strike. Unfortunately, there was never an opportune moment. The man's operation had tightened like fucking Fort Knox in the time I had been gone.

I really doubted that he thought I was dead. He couldn't be that utterly mindless. I had been working on keeping myself as under the radar as humanly possible. I basically hid out in my parents' apartment, trying to handle all their affairs after their deaths on that tragic day. This will be the last I speak of it, since it brings back too much pain, and I don't think about my pain anymore.

I only think about my revenge.

I was a different person now. I suppose I didn't feel anymore like myself, but I felt better. I felt ready to face the world instead of dreading it.

He was there, somewhere in this city, hiding from me. Hiding from everything. There had been no recent activity from him, and the police were boggled. I had watched the reports anxiously, to see if there were any leads on his location. After countless hours of exasperation and disappointment, I had decided to look for him myself. Nothing's best done unless you do it on your own.

I had warmed up my act since then, fixed my costume (yes, I still had it), fixed my character. I was Harley Quinn now, after all, and she wasn't your typical villainess. I suppose I am not intrinsically evil, by any means, I'm just evil by association.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I had been left everything in my parents' will; they had barely had time to change anything after Maggie passed away. Yet, I was still left their entire estate, all their life savings, and Maggie's trust fund. Needless to say, I had more money than I knew what to do with. It was a good fallback in case I ever needed it, but until then it was staying safely in the bank. In Connecticut.

I wasn't taking any chances considering his track record of bank robberies. Knowing him, he would definitely go after my fortune to spite me.

I knew him all too well, and that was going to be his weakness. I am the only one who can make him feel, and I am the only one who can make him fall.

The man had obviously changed locations in Gotham; I had been to the warehouse multiple times in the past month, peering in through the dirt-streaked windows for any sign of life. Yet I saw nothing, heard nothing from inside those metallic walls. It reminded me a bit of a prison, and I wondered vaguely how I had been able to stand living there for so long.

I had to exact my revenge on him; because of all the wrong he had done me. I used to believe that people were inherently good until he came along. I had a different view of the world now, and I wasn't used to that. I had preferred the familiar, the comfortable…now I was stuck in an unpredictable world of deceit and lies, something I had never known. It frightened and exhilarated me.

…

One night, I was in the penthouse, staring blankly at the television, flipping channels for any recent crime reports. Nothing but insipid re-runs and porn movies at this late hour. I was not prepared to watch the Girls Gone Wild commercial 8 times in one hour, and turned it off, leaning my head back against the couch. I closed my eyes, sighing deeply.

I was anxious and restless. Sleep hadn't come to me in days…I guess I had witnessed so much misery that I was afraid to sleep again. Every time I tried, something kept me up.

That wasn't what I needed to focus on now. Right now, I was going to hunt him down, and nothing was going to hinder me.

I suddenly heard a knock on the window. Jumping up, startled, I hesitantly peered toward the parlor window, seeing the familiar face of the Batman staring back at me.

I crossed the room urgently, opening the window, letting the cold winter air in. I involuntarily shivered as the wind passed by. I moved aside to let him climb through the window, and he shook the snow off his shoulders.

"I have some news." He said gruffly.

I lit up with excitement. I had kept in contact with the Batman during my stay here; he had been an invaluable asset to my cause. He was a vigilante like me, so he couldn't exactly blame me. We were two sides of the same coin.

"Give it to me." I said, literally bouncing on the balls of my feet.

"Calm down. Villains don't bounce." He said in his ever-serious tone.

"You're really no fun at all." I pouted slightly.

"It's not exactly part of my persona."

"True," I mused, "You're not known as the 'Dark Knight' for nothing."

"The Dark Knight?" he furrowed his brow.

"Yeah, um, don't you watch the news?"

"The news hasn't been favorable to me lately." He admitted.

"Well…I suppose that's true." I flushed, "Anyway, what were you here to tell me before I took this conversation on a 180 turn?"

"I have news of the Joker's new hideout." He fished one of his many pockets, and pulled out a piece of paper, "An informant of mine has infiltrated the premises, and managed to snag a copy of the blueprints for me."

He handed them to me, "I thought you might be interested."

"Yeah, definitely," I eagerly took them, "Thanks so much. You've been such a huge help to me these past few months. I can't thank you enough."

"It's not a problem. We fight for the same purpose, although we may be going about it in a different way for different reasons. Either way, he needs to be stopped immediately before the safety of the public is at stake again." The Batman said firmly, "You are important to this operation, as well, Harley. You're the only one who has insight to his real character. We may have to resort to psychological warfare with this man."

"Throw it back in his face, you mean? Reverse psychology?" I asked, absent-mindedly staring out the window. It was a clear night, crisp and the moon bright in the center of the sky. Things were starting to look better.

"You'd know best." He shrugged, "You're the one with the degree."

"Yeah, I guess so." I smiled half-heartedly, "Are you ever going to reveal your identity to the world, Batman?"

"Not until my job is complete here." He said shortly, "I can't let people know. They always end up getting hurt in the end."

"I know the feeling." I said grimly.

"I'm still sorry for your loss, Harley. It must have been awful. I am an orphan myself, actually. My parents died many years ago, though."

This was the most I had ever heard him speak of his personal life. It kind of threw me off guard. I wasn't necessarily expecting him to be as jaded as I was.

Although, now that I think about it, a man who dresses up as a bat to prowl the streets at night probably has some serious issues.

He cleared his throat, "Well, I must be off. I have other business to attend to."

"Wait!" I called after him, "Where is this place?"

"Main and Greenfield. I think you'll know which one it is right away." And with that, he was off.

An elusive man, he was.

I stared down at the intricate blueprint in front of me, eyes getting a little tired trying to figure out the little details. Mainly, I was looking for hidden entrances, places I could squeeze into without being noticed. As I scanned it, one location stood out above the rest.

Below the back entrance to the building was a sewer. Alright, pretty nasty and I was not fond of rodents or any type of insect that likely resided there, but it would have to do. They would never expect someone to climb out of the sewer. Or, at least, I hoped so.

I could be horribly wrong, and that is where they get all their shipments in, but I had to take the chance that they didn't.

In any case, I at least had a semblance of a plan. It was better than the blank stares and empty pieces of paper with which I had tried to brainstorm ingenious schemes on.

I was nervous, yes, to see him again. But I really had exact my vengeance or else I would never feel like I was complete. I would feel like I had never accomplished anything.

This is my life now, and I had to accept it. I would never be the psychologist again, I would never again be the normal person riding the subway to work and drinking coffee in the mornings. Waiting in lines, doing all the mundane shit that we all take for granted. Once you've had everything taken away from you, nothing else matters.

This is all I had left in my life.

Which was rather pathetic…?

But yes, it was all I had.

He would know how much he hurt me. How he ruined me. How he destroyed everything I had worked so hard for in one fell swoop. No one should take this lying down. Especially me. The person he said that he had loved.

Did he still love me?

If he did, why the fuck should I care?

I felt like I shouldn't. It wasn't like I had forgotten what had happened between us. It still haunts me to this very day. It was my biggest mistake and my biggest regret, but I had to forget about these events to remain objective. My feeling shouldn't be playing into this. I thought I would be stronger than this.

I was scared to face him again, but I had to suck it up. He was my sworn enemy, the person who needed to be brought down. That was of utmost importance and I wouldn't let my personal life get in the way…even though that was the reason I was doing this.

For my parents…for my sister, whose life had been tragically cut short before it had even began, and for John…my John, the only person who had ever loved me in the way no one else could. Not even how the Joker believed he could.

All of a sudden, I felt the urge to lie down…and I fell into a deep sleep for the first time in a month.


	2. Ghosts of My Past

**A/N: Alright, I gave in. Thanks for wishing me luck on my tests...I think they went well. I gave it the ol' college try...literally. Heh. Feel free not to laugh at my quirky yet obnoxious puns.  
I also need to stop referencing my own work when I speak/write.  
Read the chapter and stop me from babbling like a moron.  
R&R KTHX! I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 2: Ghosts of My Past

_I got a closet filled up to the brim_

_With the ghosts of my past and their skeletons_

_And I don't know why_

_You'd even try_

_But I won't lie_

"_Hero/Heroine," Boys Like Girls_

_Harley…_

_Harley…_

What? What?

My sister was in front of me, her arms spread wide. She floated as if in permanent limbo. She could have been. She had unfinished business here.

_Harley, avenge me._

I'm working on it, ok?

_I know…I'm just stuck here. I want to see Mom and Dad again._

You haven't seen them?

_No…they won't me leave._

Who won't?

_They won't._

Ok, that's specific.

_You wouldn't understand, Harley. You aren't where I am._

Don't I know it?

_I'm sorry to bother you at this late hour._

It didn't seem to bother you the past 4 nights.

_Has it really been 4 nights in a row?_

Yeah, I'd know.

_Damn, I'm sorry. Well, maybe I'll haunt you at least every 2 days or so._

Thanks. That's very considerate of you, Mags.

_Don't be sarcastic with me. You know you're the one who cost my death._

You don't have to remind me.

_Keep your focus, Harley._

I'm trying my best.

_I know. I just want to remember that I'll still love you, no matter what happens. I cared about you as much in life as I do in death._

She started to disappear into the background, and I called after her.

No! Maggie, wait!

I woke up in a cold sweat, tears running down my face. This was the normal reaction I had to these dreams. It didn't make it any easier each time it happened. I put my face in my hands, sobbing into my palms. I was responsible for all the wrong that had been done to my family.

If I didn't take the Joker case, if I hadn't been so fucking greedy, wanting to get all the recognition…I wouldn't be in this mess. I had wanted so badly to be the one who helped him. Now I was the one who wanted so badly to eliminate him.

I should have known I would end up like this, lost and empty, alone.

It was no use wallowing in my regret now.

I had to go through with this, or else it would never end.

…

It was a cold night, colder than it had been the past couple of weeks. I shivered through my thin red and black checkered form-fitting costume, feeling the chill course through my veins. My eyes were safely covered with a black satin mask, tied around the circumference of my head.

Covering my blonde curls was a red and black jester's hat, and on my feet black leather boots. I had made some adjustments to my previous outfit, making it easier aerodynamically. The fabric clung tight to my body, and one would think it would have kept me warm. Yeah, that definitely wasn't happening, especially in 15-degree weather.

My hands shook in spite of themselves, and I clenched them tighter to keep the tremors away. I had quietly slipped around the back of the building that the Joker currently called home, and was standing in front of the metal-plated lid of the sewer, debating my predicament.

I couldn't keep standing out here staring at it. Someone would see me eventually.

I pulled out a screwdriver from my bag, working quickly to pull out the heavy screws on the lid. Once I had removed all of the screws, I (with some effort) lifted the lid off the ground, and shoved it aside. I stared down into the gloom, swallowing hard. It was going to be so nasty down there.

I stepped down onto the ladder, almost losing my footing because of the slippery leather of my boots. Once I had reached the fourth or fifth step, I grabbed the sewer lid and pulled it back over the hole, immersing me in total darkness.

I had been prepared for this. I fished in my bag, finally locating a small flashlight. I switched it on, illuminating the rest of the ladder. I saw that I only had a few steps left to go.

When I had reached the bottom, I felt the squish beneath my feet, and swallowed again to keep myself from whimpering aloud. I despised anything murky, damp, and smelly. This sewer was all of those and more.

I pushed forward, holding the flashlight to eye level. There was graffiti smattered on the walls, suggesting that other people had obviously decided to come down here. For what reasons, I could only guess as being shady.

My teeth were clenched tight in my mouth as I encountered an adorable little rat scurrying across my feet. It had taken everything in my power not to scream girlishly and run away. Of course, that would have given my position away, so I had refrained…but just barely.

I walked down that sewer for what seemed like miles, wondering vaguely if I would ever find the entrance to the Joker's lair. Suddenly, my prayers were answered. I heard voices directly above me.

"The Joker wanted these here, you said?" a man's voice asked, strained. He sounded as if he were carrying some heavy objects.

"Yeah, yeah, all the explosives in this room." Another man's voice answered impatiently, "Did you get the right ones?"

"I hope so, Johnny."

"You'd better be right, Bob, because you know the Joker gets if he's not happy." I could almost the man making a cut-throat gesture at his friend.

"Oh, believe me, I know." The other man said shakily.

"Let's get out of here before he thinks we've been gone too long." Johnny said anxiously.

"Yeah, he's been so much angrier since he lost that Harley girl." Bob's voice faded as the two men left the room.

I let out the exhaled breath I had been holding during that entire conversation. That was rather strange…why would he be angry about losing me? He hated me.

Choosing not to have an existential crisis over it, I shined the flashlight on the adjoining ladder, and climbed up slowly, careful to not make my presence known.

I reached a wooden trap door, and used all my weight to push it open. I cringed as it made a 'thud' sound against the concrete, and froze, seeing if I heard any footsteps approaching. I waited for a minute with bated breath, but there was nothing.

This life was seriously going to give me premature heart failure.

I used to flashlight to read all the labeled boxes. It was clearly a storage room. Most of the boxes read, 'Explosives'; there were others, like 'carbon monoxide', 'nitrous oxide', and 'ammonium nitrate.' This guy was fucking packing. He had enough here to suffocate the entire city of New York and its surrounding suburbs.

I figured it would be best to get out of this room, and quickly.

I crossed the room to the door, and tried to pull it. To my surprise, it opened, and I peered out into the hallway for any sign of life.

It was as empty as a tomb.

You know, if was a criminal mastermind, I would have people everywhere in my establishment in every available corner or crevice. I guess he thought was too good for all of that pomp and circumstance.

Well, whatever; it worked to my advantage.

I crept down the hallway, under the dim lighting of the fluorescent ceiling lamps, and took in my surroundings. This place must have been centuries old; the support beams looked weak, and it appeared to be falling apart at the seams.

Maybe this place would do the job for me, and come crashing down on his stupid, dumb head.

Yes, I am an eloquent 280year-old with a doctorate degree in psychology from one of New York's most prestigious schools…

There was silence all around me. It was just…too quiet. It puzzled and frightened me.

Maybe he wasn't in tonight. That would be just my luck.

I passed a window, and stopped to look inside. There was no one in there, and I jumped back a little, startled by my own reflection in the glass.

As I said before, premature heart failure.

After regaining my composure (or whatever was left of it), I looked back into the room, trying to see what was in there. It appeared to be just miscellaneous objects; paperwork, matchboxes, food supplies…I suppose necessities for the operation.

My stomach growled at the thought of food. I hadn't eaten a proper meal in a while, but I couldn't think about that now.

I pressed my hand to my abdomen, willing it to stop making noise.

Any little noise could be heard in this silence.

I turned away from the door, and took two steps forward, running into something solid.

My heart racing in my chest, I reluctantly looked up into the face of a burly African-American man who I had seen before.

He was one of the Joker's bodyguards, Antoine.

"Welcome back, Miss Harley." He said, revealing all of his yellowed teeth.

Oh, shit.


	3. Adrenaline

**A/N: I like banter. Yay! ;)  
I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 3: Adrenaline

_I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins_

_Spotlight on me and I'm ready to break_

_I'm like a performer; the dance floor is my stage_

_Better be ready, hope that you feel the same_

"_Circus," Britney Spears_

I felt my breath come out shallow and short through my lips as Antoine led me (or, well, forced me) down the rest of the hallway and into the main room of the warehouse.

"Boss, I think I have something you might want to take a look at." Antoine called out in his low, masculine voice.

And there he was. Just as I had remembered him; the cruel yet sad eyes that had gazed into mine, the unkempt hair, and the stooped stature as he walked towards us. His expression changed as he saw me. He looked as if he didn't know whether to hug me or kill me.

After the initial shock, his face twisted into a sick smile, "Ah, I see Harley has come back from the dead."

"Happy to see me?" I spat back at him.

"Of course, my dear." He snapped his fingers, "Release her, Antoine."

As the large man let go of my arms, they ached a little from being handled aggressively. I rubbed my forearms, feeling uncomfortable as the Joker circled me like a vulture with its prey. I tried to keep my face straight, not to show any signs of weakness.

"Well, well, this is certainly a surprise." He looked me over, "I see you've changed your costume. I must say I approve."

I suddenly became aware of how it fit my body. Not like he hadn't seen what was underneath it.

"Yes, I suppose it looks so much better." I said lamely.

"I am a little surprised to see you, you know." He stepped closer. I instantly went on guard, my body tensing.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said quietly, too quiet for the rest of his lackeys to hear.

I stared at him curiously, but then started as he spoke louder, "I suppose you could say that I'm surprised to see that you survived that fire. You're indestructible."

"And don't you know it." I said with my chin held high.

He laughed that insane cackle of his that made my blood run cold in my veins, "And still as feisty as ever! I do like that in a woman."

Why the hell was he putting on this act?

All of his increasingly annoying henchmen shook with laughter as he ran his hand down my backside. I gritted my teeth, "A little close for comfort, don't you think, Joker?"

"I can get as close to you as I want. You're mine now." He said harshly, "You escaped from me once, and I'm not being fooled again."

"Oh, don't you mean twice?" I asked innocently.

His henchmen's laughter immediately ceased.

He stared into my eyes, "Still as proud as ever, I see, Princess."

"I told you not to call me Princess."

"I call 'em as I see 'em, my dear. Last I heard your parents died ever-so-tragically and you inherited their massive fortune. So…ah…that little tidbit I think qualifies you as a Princess in my book." He leaned in, "Unless you want to contest that?"

"No," I mumbled.

"Right," he said triumphantly, "You can't deny it."

He began to walk away, gesturing to his audience gallantly.

"Why do you care? I thought you said it wasn't about money, Joker." I called, "I thought you told me once that money was inconsequential."

He halted, and turned to face me, "I did say that. Money isn't important to me, but clearly it is to you since you speak of it so often."

"I see you're avoiding the topic." I was becoming braver now, "I think your henchmen would never believe the things you've told me. About their leader, their cold, hard leader actually loving someone…oh right, yes, that's me."

The henchmen all stared at him, expecting an explanation.

I knew I had him in a vice.

He struggled to find the words, "Well, you are the temptress who thought you could turn me into something. I was merely using you by pretending I had feelings for you. I thought it would be easy for you to succumb to my bidding if you thought I actually cared about you, Miss Quinn."

I knew he was lying.

"Fine then," I shrugged, "I suppose you'd care to further deny that you came to me on my wedding day and told me that you'd rather me marry you than John? You know, the man you killed out of jealousy? Remember him?" My eyes grew dark with rage, "Because I sure as hell do."

His eyes widened, "Also a lie."

"Oh, of course," I stepped forward, voice growing more venomous as I spoke, "Of course, it was all just a joke. That's all everything is to you, a big fucking joke. Lives aren't a joke, dear, they aren't inconsequential like money. Love isn't a joke. I don't think someone jokes about loving another human being, do they? You just don't want to admit to yourself that you have a heart."

He was lost for words.

I continued my tirade, "And you said you loved me? WELL STUPID ME I GUESS FOR CARING ABOUT YOU TOO, FUCKER! You want to kill me? I'm right here, ass-hole, I'm right here! I'm standing here before you ready to die, because you've taken away everything that matters so I might as well just die!"

I breathed heavily as I moved closer toward him, thoroughly enjoying the look of pure shock on his face, "Kill me then. Kill me right now if you have the balls."

He glanced anxiously around him, seeing the dubious looks on his henchmen's faces and the pure, unadulterated hate on mine, and finally said, "Well, that would be all too easy, wouldn't it, dear? I think you deserve to go down in a fight."

"I knew you couldn't." I said with satisfaction, "You care about me too much."

"That may be true, Miss Harley Quinn, but I prefer to let my victims suffer first." His voice was strained, weary.

"Of course," I said, folding my arms across my chest, "Well, then, I suppose you'd let me give you the same satisfaction."

I pulled out a handgun from my back pocket and pointed it to his forehead.

I saw a look of terror cross his features, but then he relaxed, "Harley, you know as well as I do that you can't kill me."

"Want to bet?" I snapped.

"You are weak, Harley. You always have been, and you always will be."

I held the gun tighter, cocking it, "You aren't making your situation any better."

"I know you're angry at me."

"Angry doesn't even begin to cover it." I said through clenched teeth.

The room had gone completely silent around us. All I could hear were the sounds of the henchmen's anxious breathing. It was driving me crazy.

"Just kill me then," he said with a nonchalant shrug, "I'm not going to struggle."

"Oh, please, like I'd believe that." I snorted indignantly.

"Harley, think about it. If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already." He said smugly.

"I hate you." I snarled.

"Ah, I see you have no snappy comeback."

I stood there, hands shaking, feeling the cold metal of the gun biting into my palms. I knew he was right, but I wasn't going to admit it. I was scared shitless to kill him. I realized that I couldn't do it with conviction.

I slowly lowered the gun, and heard the entire room relax.

"You see, you can listen to reason, Princess." He grinned.

"Don't push your luck." I said curtly.

"Do you want to come with me, talk about this?" he offered me his hand.

"What is there to talk about?" I stared at him incredulously, "You killed my family and the man I loved. I don't really think there is any real moral argument we can have. We are enemies now, and I'm not going to let you win."

"Somehow I believe you." He said, with a somewhat sad smile.

"But, nonetheless, I suppose I do owe you an explanation for attempting to assassinate you." I admitted, pocketing the gun.

"Alright, come with me." He beckoned me to follow him, and I obliged, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of all the men around me.

I knew there was nothing he could say to appease me, but I suppose I'd hear him out for the sake of being generous.

…

He led me to a back room, closing the door behind us.

It was very dark, and I involuntarily released a squeak of anxiety.

I could nearly see him roll his eyes at me, "Don't birth a cow, Harley."

He turned the small light-bulb above us on, and I could see the outline of his tired face in the dim lighting. He held his arms out to me, "Please get over here."

"No." I stayed put.

"Harley…you don't understand. I have to put on an act for them." He sighed, "They think I'm stronger than this. I almost cried when you walked in that door."

"I find that exceedingly difficult to believe." I said coldly, "Considering you decided killing me would be the best option."

"It's better than living in hell." He slumped against the door, "I couldn't face myself after what I had done. I thought about poison – yeah, I've got barrels of arsenic – jumping out the window…"

"God damn it, Joker, you wouldn't kill yourself." I said, exasperated, "You don't care about me that much."

"Oh, don't you think so?" his eyes were despairingly sad.

"Stop acting." I was getting enraged, "Stop acting, please, for my sake, just tell me what you actually think of me!"

"I didn't know how to face life without you, so I thought just killing everyone and everything that reminded me of you would help." He shrugged, crossing the room to a small sink in the corner, "I really and seriously thought it would help. But you still were on my mind every minute of every day. I didn't know to live with the fact that I killed the only person I ever cared about."

He turned on the sink, wrinkling his nose at the dirty water that spurted out at first, "I really need to fix up this place. Anyway, I missed you. What else can I say? I know by that annoyingly stubborn look on your face that you don't believe me, so my words are falling on deaf ears, of course."

"I'm listening." I said shortly, "I just don't trust you."

"Understandably," he put his hands under the water, and splashed his face. His make-up ran down his face, giving him the appearance of one of those sad clowns you'd see at that creepy Cirque du Soleil.

"Harley, you mean so much to me. We made good partners, you and I." he took a towel from a rack behind him, and rubbed the remainder of his make-up off, "You're the only person I can show my real face to. You don't know how difficult this is for me, to trust anyone."

I stared into his handsome face, only marred by the angry scars on his lips, and felt my heart soften. Maybe he was telling me the truth…what?! What the hell am I saying? He's just faking this to lure me back in.

"I wish I could believe you." I said truthfully, "But I don't. How do I know that this isn't a ploy to make me fall for you? And then you're just going to kill me anyway?"

He gripped my forearms, "I can't lose you again."

I pushed him away, "Don't touch me."

"Stop being a stubborn bitch, Harley." He narrowed his eyes at me, "It's not exactly becoming."

"Fuck you." I snapped.

"Oh, and like cursing at me is really going to help the situation." He threw his arms up to the air in frustration, making an apostrophe to the mildewing ceiling, "I can't fucking win with you!"

"Really, enlighten me with how killing my family and the man I loved makes me fall in love with you. I'm not sure what kind of self-help books you're reading, but news flash: that isn't a way to a girl's heart!" I exclaimed, "Get over it, alright?"

"I can't get over it!" he mocked my voice, "You're being unreasonable!"

"Oh, and murder isn't unreasonable?!" I stepped closer to him, in his face.

He just returned the gesture, "Love makes you unreasonable!"

"This isn't love! This is just madness!" I protested.

"Well, it's mad love then! Deal with it!"

"I hate you!"

"I love you!"

"No, you don't!" I shouted, "Stop telling me that! You don't mean it; I know it!"

Suddenly, his lips were on my own.


	4. You Don't Know Who I Am

**A/N: Hmmm I guess I can't wait to post chapters...you guys are spoiled. Haha oh well. A tense chapter. Yeahhh.**

**I don't own DC Comics characters, blah blah. **

Chapter 4: You Don't Know Who I Am

_You love me but you don't know who I am_

_I'm torn between this live I lead and where I stand_

_You love me but you don't know who I am_

_So let me go, just let me go._

"_Let Me Go," 3 Doors Down_

"Woah, woah, back up!" I pushed him away, "None of this shit!"

"What did I do?" he asked innocently.

"You kissed me without my consent." I pouted, losing my tough bitch façade for a moment, "This is sexual assault."

"Oh, please, Harley," he drawled, "Like you didn't enjoy it."

"I didn't." I said immediately.

He was nonplussed, "Of course, of course; you keep telling yourself that, Princess."

"Don't even go there." I said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not angry at you for being angry with me." He shrugged, "I understand it completely. I kind of ruined your life. It's not like I don't regret it."

"Well, maybe you could show your remorse, just a teensy bit." I snapped.

"I don't know how to do that. You know that, Harley, you know me better than anyone else. How do you think losing you felt?"

"Just like it felt the first two times it happened?" I said. Man, I was snarky today.

He gave me a simpering look, "Worse, thanks."

"How so?" I was puzzled.

"Well, this time it was like…" he paced a little where he stood, "I don't know exactly how to describe it. I felt…empty. I felt…sort of meaningless."

"I still think this just an act to get me to care about you again." I said uneasily.

"I anticipated that reaction." He admitted, "I am telling you the truth, though."

"If you really loved me like you said, you would stop being this arrogant ass-hole." I said, "You would stop putting up this front like you're this cold, hardened criminal and mad-man when I know you're just emotionally stunted and need some serious psychiatric help."

"Well, that makes me feel SO much better." He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

My face burned, "Come on, you know what I mean. There's a reason they put you in Arkham rather than a prison."

"Because I broke out of a prison and killed half the people in there?"

"Yeah, well, that and you needed help." I said, voice trailing off.

"Ah, I see someone is faltering in their logic." He smirked.

"Oh, fuck you." I hated to resort to such a childish insult, but there was really nothing in my box of comeback ammunition.

"I already did that."

"I knew you'd say that." I said shortly.

"Then why did you even say anything in the first place?"

"SHUT UP!" I shouted, "God damn it, I'm falling into the same old patterns! I came here to kill you and that's what I'm going to do!"

"Yeah, right, ok," he snorted, "You already failed that miserably."

I just glared at him.

"Oh, and like I'm supposed to think that YOU are some cold, hardened criminal or something? Give me a fucking break, Harley. You're just upset because life didn't work out the way Mommy and Daddy planned it."

"You don't even fucking talk about them!" I growled with rage, "You don't deserve to talk about them! They were good people and you took their lives away! You don't know the sheer audacity you had in doing that to me! You took your rage out on people who didn't deserve it! Why don't you just kill me then? Why don't you just kill me? Because right now, I pretty much have nothing to live for!" Tears flooded from my eyes, and I didn't even bother to wipe them away.

"Harley…" his voice had grown soft, "I never meant for this to happen."

"Then why did it?" I said hysterically, "Why did it happen?! Explain it to me!"

"I can't." he said, barely audible.

"Um, wrong fucking answer!"

"I don't know why I did it…Harley, I just wanted you back, and I thought that if there were no distractions, you would come back. I guess that killing them wasn't the right way to go."

"Oh, you think?" I said fiercely.

"I just can't explain. I'm sorry, I wish I could."

"You don't mean that." I folded my arms across my chest.

"I do mean it! Why don't you believe me?" I could tell he was getting frustrated and I took full advantage of it.

"Because you think that killing people is the way to get what you want; oh, I'll just eliminate the problem completely. Yeah, well, that may have worked in like the 1400's, bud, but it doesn't work right now! This is the 21st fucking century; we're not in the Dark Ages or something!" I fumed, not even caring that I was digressing from the main point, "You don't need to bother giving me any explanation. I know you can't come up with anything plausible."

"Then why did you ask in the first place?" he shouted back at me.

"I DON'T KNOW!" I howled, "You just couldn't leave me be! You just couldn't let me be happy, could you?!"

"No, not really." He shrugged.

"Why? If you love me so fucking much, then why won't you let me be happy?" I cried.

"Because you're only going to be happy with me," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh, you're so sure of that?" I asked snidely.

"Yeah," he said.

I could seriously strangle him right now. He just looked so damn smug.

"AGH!" I screamed in anguish, lunging at him, ready to kill.

He fought to get me off of him, "Harley, what are you doing?!"

"I'm going to kill you! That's what I'm doing!"

He grabbed a hold of my wrists, and forced them back, causing me to whimper in agony, "You will never defeat me, Princess. You are weak, and you know it. You might as well face it; you can't live without me. You are like me in every way possible; that's why you're drawn to me."

"I will never be like you!" I snarled.

He clenched me tighter, "You want to believe that you're some self-righteous advocate of the downtrodden or something, don't you? You want to be just like the Bat?"

I struggled under his grasp, "Don't make him seem like a bad person! You're just angry because the two of you are so alike!"

He stared down at me, silent, "And, pray tell, dear, how do you figure that?"

"Because…you both are trying to change the fabric of society, but in the opposite way. He wants them to work together while you want them to break apart. You're opposite forces but you have the same intentions. You think society will be better off the way you want it."

"I don't think the same way as him. He wants to believe that people are good."

"I used to believe that people were good." I said softly, "Until I met you."

"I am not…" his voice trailed off.

"You're not…what?" I asked, feeling somewhat satisfied with myself.

He loosened his grip on me, "You point out something I cannot ignore."

I rubbed my reddened wrists, cringing at the pain, "And what's that?"

"That I am perceived as bad. But, yet so is the Bat." He mused.

"People only perceive him as 'bad' because he commits his acts without getting any consequences. You do that, too, you know." I frowned.

"Yeah, well, I get your point, alright?" he snapped, "And, actually, I'm curious, Harley…what was it you were planning on doing after you killed me, anyway?"

"Skipping town, going to Europe…I don't know, just starting over." I slumped against the wall, "I just wanted to get away. But I can't, I guess, since you decide to keep popping up all over the place."

"I tell you, love, it is fate."

"I am not your love." I narrowed my eyes at him, "I think you use that term loosely."

"Harley…"

"I can't hide the emptiness I feel because you decided to take away everything that mattered. I can't hide the pain I face every day because you made that decision. I can't just move on, as much as I really…" I closed my eyes, "…really want to. There's too much at stake now to just let it go. You can't be in my life."

"Why can't you forget?"

My eyes shot open, and I reeled at him, "Can you just forget about your abusive father that gave you those scars? Can you just forget about your mother who left you when you needed her most? Can you just forget that you've killed innocent people?"

"No, I can't. I just don't think about it." His eyes were glassy. I could tell he was trying to hold back any sort of emotion he was experiencing at the moment.

"That's not exactly the way to go about it." I rolled my eyes, "And, to add to those things, why couldn't you just forget about me?"

"That's impossible to me."

"Why? Why is it impossible?"

"Because I love you." He answered irritably.

"I'm so sick of your lies." I folded my arms across my chest, "Just tell me how you really feel."

"Really? Do you want to know how I really feel about you?" he sighed.

"Yes, yes, I do."

"Ok, then, you might want to sit down for this. It might take a while."

I was puzzled, but did as he asked. He opened his mouth to speak.


	5. Troubled Thoughts

**A/N: sorry for the wait. I had spring break last week so I had like no time to write at all. But I am back and should have more time now.  
Updates: I want feedback from reviewers - Should I make this series a trilogy or just two stories? I am considering both options.**

**R&R, thanks for reading! I don't own DC comics characters.**

Chapter 5: Troubled Thoughts 

_I got troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match_

_What a catch, what a catch_

_And all I can think of_

_Is the way I'm the one_

_Who charmed the one_

_Who gave up on you_

"_What a Catch, Donnie," Fall Out Boy_

"How do I even begin?" he mused, sitting next to me. I recoiled a little, and he gave me a simpering look.

"I can't help it." I said softly.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I already told you that." He said wearily, rubbing at his eyes. They were blood-shot; the veins shot through them like electric sparks as he blinked, "I need some sleep. To be honest, I haven't gotten much since that day."

"I can't imagine why." I muttered.

"For once, can you just shut the fuck up, Harley?" he groaned in frustration.

"I guess I can oblige."

"Ok, well…sometimes I can't put what I feel for you into words. You are unlike any person – any woman – I've ever met before. You are so simple yet you are so complicated. I can predict your habits as easily as I can predict my own, yet at moments, I can't. I feel as if I'll never know who you truly are, Harley. You are so determined, determined to a fault. You are naïve and reckless at one moment, and then subdued and helpless the next. You are so intelligent, but you have no common sense. You seem to think you're better than everyone else in this world, and maybe you are…"

He cleared his throat, coughing a bit, "So fucking musty down here. Anyway, despite all of your flaws, I can't help but love your imperfections because they are what make you the perfectly imperfect person that you are, if that makes any sense. You were raised by idealists, ambitious people. You inherited those traits. You always think that there is something more to this life than just being who you are raised to be, and while I admire that quality, it is a pointless one. You know that you can never change who you are because you come up with it yourself, without knowing you did. You are…just that. You are you. You make me so angry; you make me want to kill you."

"Obviously," I rolled my eyes.

"What did I say about talking when the grown-ups are talking?"

I just narrowed my eyes at him, but stayed silent.

"You are stubborn as they come, Miss Harley Quinn. It doesn't bother me. You stand up for what you are. I think where we come to conflict is just that we share that quality. You and I both think we don't need to have excuses for what we do, that we are born to do them and that is our only explanation. You want to fix me. The thing is, though…" he stared at me straight in the eyes, his chocolate brown irises almost blending in with his darkened pupils, "I can't be fixed. I already told you. I must be myself, just like you must be yourself. You can't fix us what I have become. I am here because of so many things that I have had to face, and you can't change that. It is completely futile to do so. I will stay the Joker forever because I am comfortable with this life. You aren't comfortable with your life. You let me get in your head and that's why you're here today. That's why you are where you are."

He looked at me to see if I would respond, but I said nothing.

"Believe me, I wish I could change what has happened between us. I wish I could be the Prince Charming you've always wanted, and it is rather unfortunate that you've fallen in love with a man who dresses up as a clown for a thrill. There could be something very, very wrong and disturbing with that idea, but you have to face it. You love me; otherwise you wouldn't be here right now. If you didn't, you would have skipped town, done something to deliberately avoid me. I don't doubt that you would have returned to me eventually because you're the type that needs closure in their life for it to have had any meaning. I wish I could be the man you've always wanted, but this is me and I know that your heart has accepted it, but your fucking stubborn head won't." he ran his hand through his dirty blonde locks, "What else can I say, Harley? I love you, and I can't – I won't – change that for anything in the world."

He touched my cheek, "It's because when I look at you, the world looks brighter. When I look at you, I don't feel so alone, I don't feel so crazy. I feel peace when you're around. I know I might sound like I'm bullshitting you or something, but I'm not. This is all from the heart, Harley."

"I thought you were heartless." I whispered harshly.

"Apparently you were mistaken." He grinned.

I couldn't help but sort of believe him. The man was spilling his guts to me. I supposed he was capable of love; we all are. I just didn't understand why it would be with me. I left him, tried to kill him for Christ sakes! Then again, he attempted to murder me but I narrowly got out of that situation. I think he believed that I understood him, when in reality; he was still a mystery after all of this time. I wanted badly to just surrender myself to him, but my obstinate attitude would never allow me that luxury.

"Are you going to forgive me?"

"No." I said firmly.

His face fell, "After all that? No?"

"Yes." I said.

"Yes you are going to forgive me?"

"NO! I will never forgive you for what you've done to me!" I exclaimed, jumping up, "Did you really think that this confession was going to make me fall into your arms and beg you to take me back or something?"

"That was the intended effect." He bit his lip.

"Yeah, well, no." I sputtered, too mad to speak, "You are beyond imagination!"

"I take that as a compliment."

"You would." I snapped.

"Gee, Harley, seem to be doing a lot of snapping nowadays. What's made you so angry?" he asked. He was still sitting on the crate, swinging his legs in a nonchalant fashion.

"Hmm, well, maybe the deaths of the people closest to me!" I shouted in his face.

He didn't even flinch.

"Alright, you got me. I'm sorry." He said, his eyes sad and sincere. Or, well, at least they seemed sincere at close range.

"I'm leaving." I said, "I can't be around you anymore today."

He grabbed my forearm, "I will let you go, as long as you promise no more assassination attempts."

"You know as well as I do that I can't promise that." I said quietly.

"You're really breaking my heart." He gripped my arm tighter, and I looked up into his face. He looked so betrayed, so tortured at the sight of me leaving him again.

"Am I?" I stared him down, "Tell me the truth."

"Well, the truth is that you've already broken it. I am waiting for you to patch it up again."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard." I snorted, "You are not emotional and romantic like this. Did you hit your head sometime in the past 3 months?"

"I suppose, in a way, I did. Your death made me realize how much you really mattered in my life. I was desperately hoping for the slight chance that you had survived so that I could make you mine again, Harley, and here you are, looking stronger and better than ever." He surveyed me with hungry eyes.

"You are so not getting any of this." I said, grasping his chin and jerking it upward, "My face is up here, by the way. And guess what? I was never yours in the first place, so you better get rid of that fantasy real quick, bud."

"You're so sexy when you talk down to me, baby." He tried to bit my finger playfully, and I immediately pulled it away.

"You think you're getting away with murder?" I pointed the aforementioned finger at him, poking his chest hard, "You think that this is funny?"

"Seeing someone so short threaten me is pretty amusing." He admitted.

"Go fuck yourself." I spat, and attempted to stalk away with what remained of my dignity.

"Aw, too late, darling, you already did that." He drawled.

Oh, well, there went the dignity.

I slowly turned to face him, "I don't regret that."

"I'm sure you don't." he said, inspecting his nails.

"At one point, I did like you. I didn't want to leave you…" These things were spilling out of my mouth before I could think, "I wouldn't say that I loved you, or that I was in love with you in any way, but I did care about you, Joker, even though you still won't tell me your real name."

"You know I can't compromise who I really am for you, Harley." He said, sighing.

"Then you don't love me." I said softly, "Don't try to lie to me."

"I'm not lying when I say that I love you!" he protested, "I just don't trust anyone enough with that information. To be honest, I don't even remember who I really was in the first place."

"I wish you could." I shook my head, "I think you do, but you just don't want to remember. You don't want to remember being weak, vulnerable…do you? You don't want to believe that you're anything but what you are right now, and that's why I can never respect you. You have to know your past to live in your present."

"Waxing philosophical, Princess?"

My heart rate accelerated in rage, "You know that nickname irritates me."

"What can I say? I like seeing your blood pumping." He shrugged, "And, I don't see you trying to remember your past, either. I suppose when your parents died, you suddenly realized how much they meant to you. Am I right?"

I clenched my fists tightly, "Don't you dare talk about my family."

"Sometimes we have to lose what is most important to know how much it impacted you." He said, "I know a little psychology myself, Harley."

"You're an ass-hole." I snapped, my eyes welling quickly with tears.

"I'm sorry, have I touched a nerve?" He didn't appear apologetic in the slightest, "Well, maybe now you know how I felt when I lost you."

"You're lying. I swear to God, I know you're lying." I said.

"You're in denial." He said matter-of-factly.

"God damn it, why I did even bother coming here?" I made an apostrophe to the leaking ceiling above me, "You're clearly beyond reason. Why do I even try?"

"If you could answer that, you wouldn't be here right now." He pointed out.

"I know that." I said curtly, "I wish I could tell myself why I can't kill you."

"Maybe because beneath all of that swagger, you do care."

"I sincerely doubt that." I said, "I'm going home."

"And where's that?"

"None of your fucking business." I scowled.

He blocked me, folding his arms across his chest, "Well, if you're going to take that attitude…"

"Get out of my way." I said firmly.

"Not until you promise that you will give us a chance."

I snorted in indignation, "You know I can't do that."

"Then you aren't leaving." He leaned against the door, cocky as ever.

I turned away from him in frustration, contemplating my options. I could just stay here and form my plans for revenge here, but I would be completely cut off from my resources. On the other hand, I could make that ridiculous promise, lure him into a false sense of security, and then really hit him where it hurts…yeah, I like that one better.

I faced him, "Ok, I will take you up on that offer."

He frowned, looking dubious, "That was too quick."

"So?" I knew he wouldn't buy it at first, "Don't expect me to be falling all over you, but I can't deny that you put up an undeniably persuasive argument for your case. I think in time I may be able to start caring about you again, but you have to be on model behavior. Also…" I stared at him, waiting for his reaction, but upon receiving none, continued, "I want you to take me along when you do criminal activity."

"Why?" he wasn't angry, it seemed; more just puzzled than anything else.

"I want to see how this place operates, if I'm going to spending time here." I explained.

"I suppose I could do that." He appeared suspicious, but I knew he would be. He was no idiot, "Well, I accept your offer. I have a few accommodations of my own to strike in this bargain."

"Those being…?"

"You need to be here every day at 8 AM sharp or I will send someone for you. That isn't a threat, it's a promise. You also must stay here until 8 PM every day, so that's 12 hours. You cannot complain for the things that I make you do."

"I guess I can do that." I mumbled.

"And…" he leaned in close to me, "You must kiss me good-bye every night."

I wrinkled my nose, "Why is that?"

"I don't know, I just wanted to see how you'd react." He smirked.

"Fine. I can handle that." I held out my hand, "Do we have an accord?"

He took it, gripping it tightly as if he'd never let it go, "We do."

"May I go home now?"

"Yes." He moved from the door.

He opened it for me, letting me pass by. He walked me to the back entrance, and I stepped outside into the cold night air.

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Princess." He called.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he interjected, "Oh yes, remember how you can't complain?"

I stood there, gaping like a fish out of water, as he slammed the door shut.


	6. She Didn't Choose This Role

**A/N: Their banter always amuses me. A shocking revelation in this chapter. OOOOHHHH. **

**I don't own DC Comics characters. **

Chapter 6: She Didn't Choose this Role

_She didn't choose this role_

_But she'll play it and make it sincere_

_So you cry, you cry_

_(Give me a break)_

_But they believe it from the tears_

"_Time to Dance," Panic at the Disco _

I lay in bed again, unable to sleep, as usual. I stared up at the gilded ceiling of my suite, wondering if everything he had said was true or if he was just bullshitting me to get me to do his bidding. I had to wonder if he thought that I would betray him again, that I was double-crossing him while he thought he was double-crossing me. It was all so very confusing.

I can still see my sister's face, smiling at me, telling me that everything would be alright. I had doomed her, and I would never forget that. For the rest of my life, I would never forget that. I can still see my parents, so happy and so proud of me on my wedding day, and then being pushed to the ground in the stampede of the crowd in the burning church.

My eyes welled up with tears, and I wiped at them fiercely. I tried really hard not to think about the past anymore, but sometimes I couldn't help it. Maggie had been gone almost a year now…it was sometimes hard to believe that she wasn't alive. It hurt the most when I got up in the morning and wanted to call her, only to realize that she wasn't going to be on the other end answering. That's when my heart would clench and I would have to stop myself from crying hysterically.

That was how the first few weeks had been. I couldn't move from this apartment. I just sat and stared into space. I wouldn't answer the phone, I wouldn't answer the door when the bell rang, so I guess everyone who wanted to help me stopped coming altogether. I didn't want their help. I didn't want their pity. They only wanted to offer their condolences to save face. I knew that, and that's why I didn't bother talking to anyone.

I couldn't do anything but cry for at least a week. I would go days without eating. I had started to waste away, and then one day, I realized that I couldn't live my life like this. I had to get revenge and then my life would have meaning again.

I just didn't understand why I couldn't kill him. I suppose I hadn't thought my plan through enough; I didn't take into account the amount of bodyguards he possessed. He was a wanted man; I guess I should have considered that idea. Well, I knew now.

The light began to stream through my window, signaling that it was time for me to begin getting up. I glanced at my clock. It read '7:00 AM' in bright neon red letters. I sat up stiffly, stretching my arms, cringing as the bones cracked uncomfortably.

I ambled into my kitchen warily, grabbing a banana and a bowl for my cereal. As I sat in my kitchen eating breakfast alone, one of my frequent quandaries passed through my mind. What if John had been alive now? What if we did get married? Would he and I be sitting in our perfect little kitchen in our perfect little house, living our perfect little lives? I guess it seemed like a fantasy now.

There was nothing now; that's all he had left me. All I had now were the memories. I did my best not to dwell on these things, because frankly, it made me too sad.

I got dressed, stuffing my costume into my oversized purse, and locked the door on my way out, pressing the button for the elevator. I stood there, waiting, and saw the door on the other side of the hall open. It was my neighbor, Kevin Murray, leaving for his job at the bank on Woodward Avenue. Don't ask how I know; I've had a lot of time on my hands recently.

His wife, Julia, a petite woman who was at least 8 months pregnant, kissed him good-bye, and they whispered something to each other that made her giggle.

I turned away, not wanting to watch the display of affection. My heart throbbed, aching to see John, to hold him again. Watching the two of them was like watching what my life could have been like. It was kind of like living in a dream, in a way, or in some horrible nightmare. It was too painful to bear.

As the elevator opened, Kevin gave his wife a quick kiss good-bye, and rushed to the door. I held the door open for him as he entered. He gave me a congenial smile, "Out early today?"

"Yeah, some errands to run," I replied airily.

"I wish I had time for that." He said wistfully, "I hate pinning everything on Julia."

"I'm sure she doesn't mind." I said, "How is she doing, anyway?"

He beamed, "Wonderful! We found out that we're having a girl."

"That's great!" I feigned excitement in a way that I hoped wasn't noticeable, "Any names picked out yet?"

The door opened to reveal the lobby, and we both exited as he replied, "We're thinking on the name Margaret. We just love the nickname Maggie."

And with that, he rushed out the door, leaving me standing there, somewhat stunned.

…

I took the subway to the Joker's lair, trying to hold back my tears. It was as if everything was crashing down on me, and I couldn't stop it. I stared out at the passing cement graffiti-ed walls of New York City's underground, remembering a happier time.

When Maggie and I had been much younger, probably before our pre-teen years even, our parents used to take us to Boston for a change of scenery. We would take trips to the beach, shrieking as the cold water of the Atlantic hit our feet. Maggie used to cling to my legs for dear life, and I would try to shake her off, complaining, 'Maggie, get off of me! I want to swim!' And she'd cry in her baby voice, 'No, no, sissy, I don't want to drown!'

I would reply in annoyance, 'You won't drown.' As she'd cry more, I would kneel down in the water and whisper, 'Don't worry. I won't let you drown, Maggie.' And her tears would dry.

I remember these moments and can't think of anything to say. I was her older sister, and I let her down. I let her die because of my terrible mistake.

…

I got off the subway, striding toward the back entrance of his new abode, knocking on it loudly. I waited impatiently, but finally his burly bodyguard Antoine answered, smirking at me, "I see we're on time, Miss Harley."

I pushed past him, "Yeah, whatever. Where's your boss?"

"He told me to escort you to him. I'd suggest you cooperate." He grabbed a hold of my arm.

"Fine," I mumbled.

"He did mention the whining, you know." Antoine pointed out.

I just gave him a simpering look.

"You're a pretty girl, Harley, you know that?" he said.

I glanced up at him, puzzled.

"How did you get mixed up in all of this?" he asked.

"It's too long of a story to even bother." I said dismissively, "I suppose it would only be fair to ask the same of you."

He grinned, "And I'd give you the same answer."

He had a few gold teeth.

We stopped in front of the Joker's "office", if you could call it that. Antoine knocked on the door, and a voice called, "Enter."

"I brought the girl, boss." Antoine announced.

"Thank you." There he sat in all of his painted glory, his eyes lined with the familiar dark kohl, the lines of his mouth creasing upward as he spoke, "Leave us."

"Of course, boss." And Antoine exited.

"Good morning, dear." He said, leaning back in his chair, putting his feet up on the decaying wooden desk, "Are you ready for your first day as a criminal?"

"What can I say? It's not like I have a choice." I frowned.

"You look upset about something." He furrowed his brow in contemplation.

"You assume correct."

"What's up?"

"I don't want to talk about it." I said quickly.

"Oh, please, Harley, you think I believe that shit?" he rolled his eyes, "Just tell me before I have to beat it out of you."

"Ok, so it was just that I was thinking about Maggie. That's all. I don't know. It upset me, like it always does. Not like that matters to you." I said, clenching my jaw.

"I care about you, Harley." His voice had softened, "I know that losing your sister must have been hard on you."

"Are you fucking serious?! You're the one who killed her! How can you sit here so god damn calm and talk to me like it was some sort of accident?" I jumped up from the chair where I had sat.

He continued to sit there, cool as a fucking cucumber, "Who ever said I killed her?"

He caught me off-guard. There was a beat of silence before I asked, "What?"

"How do you know it was me? How are you so certain?" he cocked his head at me.

I sputtered, lost for words, "I – I don't – what? Who else would have a motive for killing my sister other than you?"

"She did have an abusive boyfriend. Did she ever tell you that?"

I sunk back into the chair, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"His name was Jordan, actually. Saw him going in and out of that apartment for a while. I think she kicked him out a week or so before you stayed with her."

"How do you know all of this?" I whispered in disbelief.

He leaned forward, "I have my sources. You were never alone, Harley."

Now I was irritated, "Wait, so you're saying that it wasn't you? That you had nothing to do with the whole situation?"

"I'm not saying I didn't." he said coyly.

"Oh why don't you just fucking tell me the truth instead of beating around the bush?" I snapped, "I already resigned myself into believing that you did it. If you didn't do it, I will wholeheartedly apologize to you for jumping to conclusions, alright? I still will never forgive you for my parents and John, but assure me that my nightmares are pointless, please, Joker, just tell me."

"Alright, fine, here's the truth on the matter. I didn't kill Maggie. I had no intention at all of killing her. I knew that she knew something was up between us, but not enough for her to catch any whiff of who I was, so I spared her. I'm not going to deny that I considered it. Jordan, on the other hand, had other ideas." He explained.

I stared at him, unsure if I should believe him or slap him in the face. Nonetheless, I listened to what he had to say. To be honest, I was kind of forced into believing him. Why would he lie to me about something that had already transpired, especially if I had believed it to be him in the first place? He wouldn't incriminate himself more. That would just be stupid on his part.

"Anyway, I knew Jordan by osmosis, I guess. He was an ex-con, in fact; he was in the cell next to me at county jail. They had arrested him for domestic abuse. Apparently his girlfriend called the cops on him during one of their altercations. Had I known it had been Maggie, your own sister, I would have arranged for his death, Harley. I knew how much she meant to you." He said, his face growing dark, "I regret it to this very day."

"But…" I struggled to find the words, "…you let me think it was you? Why didn't you just tell me this before?"

"I knew right away, after it happened, that you would immediately assume it was me. It was completely inevitable. I wanted to tell you, seeing you look so vulnerable in front of her grave. To me, you'd never looked so beautiful in that moment, so full of pain. But when you attacked me, I knew in that moment that you wouldn't believe a word I had to say." He shrugged, "I know you better than to mess with you when you're pissed off."

I hated to admit it, but he was right.

"I let you go because I knew you were going to leave me anyway. My last ditch effort to save you from your marriage to that tool was all I could think of to do. I really just couldn't stand to see you so happy with someone else." He stood up, crossing the room to a bookcase, "I kept everything I could find to remember you by when I thought you were gone. All the security tapes you were on…I watched them multiple times, memorizing your facial expressions, your movements."

I raised an eyebrow at him. Creepy, but somehow a little enduring in its own way.

He smiled, "That's one of my favorites. The one on your face right now. The what-the-fuck face."

"Let's get back to my sister." I flushed.

"Oh, right, sorry, I got distracted." He sat back down, "I am truly sorry that I told you so late in the game, but I figured I would tell you when you weren't so emotional, when you weren't in a fit of rage. No one can reason with your bull-head."

"I suppose you have a point." I admitted hesitantly, "And to you, I want to apologize for jumping to conclusions, then. But you understand why I did it?"

"Perfectly," he replied, "I would have assumed the same in your position."

"Well, um…this is awkward." I bit my lip, "I still don't forgive you for killing the man I once loved, either."

"Nor should you." He nodded in acknowledgment.

My whole life had been changed in this one moment. Finding out what you believed was wrong is never an easy thing, especially for me. I never liked to admit that I was wrong. I looked up at his earnest face, eager for my approval, and couldn't help but hand it to him. He had me down to a science, which in a way was very frightening, but yet sort of…flattering, I guess.

Listen to me, sounding like I care about the man.

"What did you want me to do for you today?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Well, to start off, I want you to suck my dick." He said, with all the seriousness in the world on his face.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "You're a sick fuck."

"So are you, sleeping with a man you hardly know, a man you broke out of an asylum…oh yes, and prison too." He smirked. I hated that smirk. I hated it with all the fondness I had for it in my heart, which sounds fucked up, even to me.

"I'm definitely not doing that." I folded my arms across my chest.

He glanced downward, "I suppose a free show suffices."

I felt my cheeks turn scarlet, "Avert your eyes, mister J."

"Have I been a bad boy?" he licked his lips.

"Don't turn this conversation into a porno, please." I stood up, "I'm here to help you in your crime syndicate, not your twisted fantasies. If you think you're getting near any of this, you are sorely mistaken."

"Oh, fine, you're no fun at all." He sighed, standing up as well, "You're like the naughty librarian without the naughty part. And that just leaves the librarian, which, well, is really fucking boring and not as appealing."

"Do you even think before you speak?" I said wryly.

"Not really. Does it show?"

I shrugged, "Only a little a lot."

"Ah."


	7. Prove Myself to You

**A/N: Wow, sorry I've been MIA for a while. Here's the update...I got a writer's block on this chapter but I'm back on again so I should be able to crank out a couple more in the next week or so.**

**I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 7: Prove Myself to You

_I'm trying, I'm trying_

_To let you know just how much you mean to me_

_And after all the things we put each other through and_

_I would drive on to the end with you_

_A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full_

_And I feel like there's nothing left to do_

_But prove myself to you and we'll keep it running_

"_Demolition Lovers," My Chemical Romance_

The Joker led me into the open room of the newly improved (or not) warehouse, where his henchman had gathered impatiently.

"Gentlemen, look who has graced us with her presence today." He announced, sneering at me.

I knew it was all an act, but it was really fucking annoying.

The henchmen all booed and made cat-calls, but I just stood there and took it, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I wasn't exactly in the position to be giving out orders. I was just biding my time anyway until I could get him to trust me again. And then…well, I think the end result should be obvious by now.

"I think a certain someone should change now." He said pointedly.

"Huh?" I had been spacing out.

"Well, air-head, I was talking to you, and I think you should get into your costume now." He smirked. Did I mention I hated his smirk? Ok, yeah, I know I did.

"Fine," I muttered, and headed for the nearest room that had a door with a lock.

I was not taking chances with these perverts.

I emerged from the room a few minutes later, and braced myself for more derogatory remarks about my appearance. To my surprise, they were all completely silent. They just stared at me in this eerie way, like I was some sort of alien or something.

"Um, hi," I said awkwardly.

"Very nice, Miss Quinn," the Joker winked at me, but not in any sort of lascivious way. It threw me off-guard a little.

"Yeah, well, I try." I said, and gestured for him to continue.

"A de-briefing, gentlemen, before we embark on our venture of the day," the Joker said, "Well, to set the scene for you chumps, we're going to Randolfini's place today."

A couple of men started whispering amongst themselves. I had a feeling that they knew the guy. I, on the other hand, didn't know who the flying fuck that man was.

"Yes, that Randolfini, men; I know a few of you were under his employ until recently. I suppose you will like this turn of events. We are going to infiltrate his gang of miscreants and break up this little birthday party they are having in his honor. I want no one left alive. You hear me?" he leaned an ear toward his captive audience.

"Of course, boss," they all affirmed.

"Good." He pointed to me, "On the next order of the day, this is Miss Harley Quinn. None of you are to address her as anything but that, got it? You'll have to answer to me if I hear any sort of mistreatment or lewd comments directed at her. And you all know that I'm not the forgiving type."

Some of the men's eyes widened in fear, nodding fervently, "Wouldn't think of it, boss!"

"Alright, now that we have that settled…" he glanced around the room, "Back to work until I tell you otherwise."

He left the men, and left me standing there, not sure whether I was to follow him or not. After a moment, I decided to scamper away from the scene as quick as humanly possible, brushing up against him as he walked in huge strides.

"You certainly have a presence." I remarked.

"I take that as a compliment." He said in response, not even looking at me.

"Are you sure that what you're doing is a good idea? I mean, this is the mob, for Christ sakes. They've got security up the ass." I frowned, "Aren't you getting the notion that this is rather reckless?"

He grinned at me, "That's exactly why I'm doing it. Harley, do you really think I'd do the things I do without thinking it might get me into trouble?"

I bit my lip, anxious, "I'm not going to be in any sort of danger, am I?"

"Yeah, probably." He shrugged.

"What?!" I stepped in front of him, "I am going to be in mortal peril here? You're going to let me risk my life for you?!"

"Yeah, do you have a problem with that?"

"Well, uh, yeah, I fucking have a problem with that!" I snapped, "I thought you loved me! You're just going to purposely put me in harm's way?"

"It's not purposely, in any case. You chose this, Harley." He pushed past me.

I followed him, struggling to catch up, "I'm not done talking to you yet, young man! You haven't even told me what my part in this scheme is yet!"

"Oh, that will come in time, my dear." He said.

"I don't like your ambiguity." I said, annoyed.

"You don't need to impress me with your fancy words, Princess. I already know that you're all educated." He chuckled.

"That has nothing to do with the topic of conversation, alright? Stop steering me 180 degrees from the point! You are so fucking frustrating." I threw my hands up in the air to illustrate my proclamation, "You want me to forget that we're committing all sorts of terrible criminal acts and you expect me to be ok with that?"

"You broke me out of an asylum and a county jail. I don't think the law exactly is on your side anymore." He said.

I had nothing to say to that. It was true, after all. I just folded my arms across my chest and made a pouting face.

"Cute," he remarked.

"I don't need your condescension right now."

"No, I meant that it was cute, Harley. God damn, take a compliment, will ya?" he rolled his eyes. We reached his office again, and he opened the door, gesturing for me to go in. I obeyed, having no choice but to.

As I closed the door behind us, he pulled me into his arms, "Harley, I'm sorry."

This sudden display of affection totally threw me off. I patted his back awkwardly, "Well, um, ok…sorry for what?"

"Lying to you all this time. I let you believe something truly horrible of me. I just wanted to tell you that killing your sister was never part of my agenda, I promise." He said into my hair.

I pushed him away, "Oh quit the act. I still can't forget what else you've done, and acting like a whiny, sniffling moron isn't going to help."

He smiled fondly, "I love it when you're angry."

"Can we just get to the point? Why did you drag me in here?" I sighed in total exasperation.

"So we could have hot sex, why else?" he laughed.

My face was dead-pan. I raised an eyebrow skeptically, "Yeah, ok, and that will happen…um, NEVER. What's the real reason?"

"You mean you won't even consider it?"

"Nope."

"Not even a little touchy-feely?"

"Unless you want your dick chopped off and shoved up your ass, I'd suggest not."

"Ok, I see this is not a time for sexually awkward banter right now." He shrugged, "I have a little job for you."

"Finally, you tell me." I plunked myself in the chair across from him ungracefully.

"Alright, so here's the idea. Randolfini has been taking a good deal of my dynamite in the past few weeks. I'm not sure if he has informants within my midst; I'm pretty sure I would have weeded them out by now." He began.

"Well," I interjected, "You said a lot of your men worked for him before?"

"Yes, that's true. They still may have some loyalty, some sort of unspoken allegiance." He said pensively, "That's why you need to be on guard. I'm not sure who will turn on me in the last second. People are fickle that way; in the face of death, their only allegiance is with themselves. Remember that, if you have to remember anything. That, and nothing ever gets done right unless you do it yourself. I live by that code of honor very closely."

"There's a code of honor among criminals?" I had to offer a half-smile at the notion.

"As ironic as that may sound, we all live by it in some way or another."

"I guess I can agree." I said thoughtfully, "I've always lived by that dogma, too. I don't exactly like working with others."

"Yeah, I can see that." He remarked.

I glared at him, and he just gave me a smirk.

"Anyway," I snapped, "Does everything I say have to be turned into sexual innuendo or some way of you insulting me?"

"You set yourself up, Princess." He put his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair.

I clenched my fists and unclenched them, "You know, I really don't take kindly to that stupid nickname."

"Well, I think I'll keep it, then." He grinned.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I want to know what my role in this whole scheme of yours is. Don't sugar-coat anything."

He appeared pensive, "Well, to be put it a somewhat blunt manner, you are the distraction."

I raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I thought you might do that." He said, with a trace of a smile, "Allow me an explanation."

"Allowed," I said.

"If there are a few life lessons I have learned, Harley, it is that women are the downfall of men. They become too distracted by them, you see, and they let their guard down. They lose themselves by trying to impress a woman only to be let down by her. They try to change, and the woman still can't see it. All they care about is what they want out of the relationship, and that's all there is to it. Women are selfish – don't get me wrong, men are, too – but they believe in this perfect little fairytale world where men are perfect and should sweep them off their feet. I hate to burst your bubble, but there's never the reality. Believe me or don't; that's your choice." He said warily, "Do you see where I'm coming from with this?"

"Yeah," I said quietly. What he had just said…it was all because of me that he had become jaded towards all women. And, well, I sort of…felt bad about it in a way. I knew I shouldn't have, but I did. What he had just said…it sort of broke my heart.

"Ok, well, I didn't mean to get all analytical about it. Basically, you're the hot piece of ass that distracts men while I rape, pillage, and steal." He shrugged.

And that just ruined the moment.

"Thanks. Glad I can be of help." I said bitterly.

"I can't do it without you." He winked.

"Whatever," I sighed, "I guess I have to do it."

"Yeah, I guess you do."

…

Night had fallen upon Gotham City. The perfect time for all the vermin and scum of the earth to come out to play.

And tonight, I was one of them.

His henchmen had all taken off on their various measures of transportation, and that left the Joker and me standing at the warehouse.

"What are we waiting for?" I inquired.

"Anxious, Miss Quinn?" he chuckled.

"Not exactly, Mister J." I frowned, "How do you plan on getting to this gig?"

"I have my ways." He said elusively, "Plus, I like to be fashionably later than my henchmen. It would be rather ridiculous if I appeared before them, wouldn't it?"

I suppose I had never considered that. But then again, why would I have to?

"Fine," I rolled my eyes.

A silence fell between us for a moment.

"Harley?" It was he that broke it.

I turned to answer him, but instead was grabbed and pulled into his arms, his mouth on mine. I again felt the familiar curve of his lips and the harsh cuts of his scars. I leaned into the kiss, feeling no reason to let go. He was scared, nervous; I couldn't imagine why, but I felt the desperation in the way he held onto me, like I was going to run away again. The moment seemed to last indefinitely, but he finally pulled away, "I've missed that."

"I could tell." I wiped the red make-up from my own lips, "You certainly make a mess of things."

"That's my job. Destructive versus constructive."

"You come up with that all by yourself?" I asked, shivering against a cold wind.

"I'm much smarter than you take me for, you know." He smiled.

"Oh, I know you're smart. You're smarter than all of us, which is the part that scares me." I looked up as a black car with tinted windows pulled up to the curb, "Is that our ride?"

"Yup," he hopped off the porch and started going toward the car.

"Um, isn't that a little suspicious? You know tinted windows are illegal?" I called as I followed him to the car.

"Oh, please, you think too much, Princess. And really, since when have you known me to follow the rules?" he laughed, and opened the door for me.

I climbed inside the car, alarmed to see Antoine driving it, "Oh, hello."

"Miss Quinn," he nodded.

"Hit it, Antoine. We're already late." The Joker commanded.

As the car squealed away down the dimly lit streets of Gotham (after all, it was almost 2 in the morning), I glanced over at the Joker, who was staring out the window absent-mindedly.

"Um, you plan on explaining what the kiss was about?" I said, drumming my fingers on the leather interior of the car.

"Quit doing that," he said, "The noise is grating on my nerves. And I kissed you because I felt the need to, that's why. What else do you need to know?"

"Well, I was just caught off guard. I thought you didn't care about me that way anymore."

"Are we really going to have this argument right now?" he sighed.

"Yes, it seems like a good opportunity."

"Fine, since you have to have it your way…" he turned to face me, "Ok, so I still have feelings for you. Like I'm supposed to let that go so easily?"

"I did." I said matter-of-factly.

"I didn't see you pulling away quickly." He smirked.

"What was I supposed to do?" I said helplessly.

"Turn me down, like you have been doing. You kissing me tonight proved to me that you still have feelings for me, too, and I'm going to take advantage of that fact." He looked at me straight in the eyes, and I squirmed a little, "You are going to love me eventually."

"Or what?" I asked, noticing the threat in the statement.

"I don't think you'd like to find out." He said grimly.

I swallowed, but stood my ground, "I don't love you, and I never will."

"Keep telling yourself that." The conversation turned light-hearted again, "I'm just stating the facts, Princess. You didn't shy away from kissing me like you used to, and that is good enough for me. You're not over me."

"I'm not over John, either." I muttered.

"When are you seriously going to stop talking about that prick?" he snapped.

"When you admit that you're sorry for killing him!"

"I will do nothing of the sort." He said firmly.

"Then you're going to have to hear about it for a good long while, because he was going to give me the life I deserved." I said, "And you took that away from me, and I will never forgive you for that."

"Yet you kiss me?"

"No one is without the urge to be loved once in a while." I rationalized.

"You never felt anything for the doctor. You just convinced yourself that you did, and you know it. You wanted to get over me, so you jumped on the next good thing that came by. And then he dies, and you are barely mourning for 3 months before you kiss another man. Well, well, you sound like a little whore."

"I'm getting the fuck out of this car!" I exclaimed, "Antoine, unlock the doors!"

"I can't do that." He said.

"For all the sanity that you have left, let me out!"

"I can't, ma'am. I am under strict orders."

"Fuck you then!" I said, enraged, and turned my anger on the Joker, "How dare you say that to me! I was nothing but fucking loyal to you, and this is how you talk to me? You'd be stuck in Arkham now if you didn't meet me!"

"You didn't have to release me. That was your choice." He said calmly.

"It's because you are one manipulative mother-fucker that I'm stuck in this situation!" I cried, "I hate you so much!"

"Yeah, you may have mentioned that."

His glibness was really starting to piss me off, "Let me out of this car."

"Uh…let me think about that…no."

"I will not do any of your bidding. You can just shoot me in the head and get it over with, because I am so not dealing with this bullshit anymore." I didn't even notice the tears running down my face, "I will not take this from you, not again. Kill me now."

"I'm not going to kill you." He rolled his eyes, "You're so fucking melodramatic."

"I am, huh?!" I shoved him, "You're horrible! This is my life you screwed up! And you're not even sorry at all!"

"What, am I supposed to be or something?"

"Umm…hmm…YES!" I shouted.

"I hate to interrupt, but we're here, sir." Antoine said loudly over the din.

"Alright, thank you, Antoine." The Joker said, and grabbed my wrist tightly, "Now, you're going to shut up. Just do this job for me and I won't make you come back for a few days until you cool off. You're being unreasonable."

I struggled against his grasp, but he held fast, "Do you understand me, Harley?"

"Yes." I said, sulking.

"Ok, let's go."


	8. Bang, Bang!

**A/N: Here is it finally. Haha sorry about that...the writing has been slow as of late because I am almost done with school and it's been really busy.**

**I get out May 8 from school, so I think the chapters will likely come much quicker than now. Whoo!**

**Enjoy! I don't own DC COMICS characters.**

Chapter 8: Bang, Bang!

_Come on, stick around and see how it ends_

_Get the money and run_

_Meet me in the parking lot_

_Bang, bang, shoot 'em up, yeah!_

"_The City is at War," Cobra Starship_

I grappled with the idea of my own reality, feeling the cold, hard gun pressed against the inside of my thigh where it had been tied earlier. How could I have let myself get into this? I couldn't back out now because I was in too deep already. I followed the Joker at an awkward pace, still unsure of my current surroundings.

We were in a banquet hall, and a nice one at that. There was surprisingly low security considering the circumstances. I had a hand on my gun, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice.

"Harley, you look like a moron." The Joker hissed.

"Oh shut up." I snapped.

"You look like you've got some sort of problem with your crotch or something." He rolled his eyes, "I'm going to have to assume that you have good enough reflexes to pull out your weapon when the time is right."

"You'd assume correct." I said, sulking. I had previous training with guns, taking some necessary measures to teach myself the mechanics. But I hadn't exactly shot one…yet.

"Just follow me, alright? I know what I'm doing." He pressed himself to the wall, and I followed suit quickly, breathing shallowly.

He peered around the corner, "The coast is clear."

"I feel like I'm in a spy movie." I had to smile a little.

"Yeah, well, except you could potentially die." He said.

"Thanks for ruining my moment."

"It's what I do."

We stealthily moved down the hallway until he reached his presumed destination: the kitchen. I stared at the stainless steel doors, puzzled, "What do we need in here?"

"Oh, I don't need anything here, but you do." He said, grinning.

I blinked a few times, mind blank, "What the hell am I doing, popping out of a cake like a two-cent hooker?" I then laughed at my joke, and after a moment realized that he wasn't laughing.

I just stared at him, "You have be fucking with me."

"I wish I was." He looked like he was stifling a laugh, "Your name is Candy, and you will be the entertainment for this evening's celebration."

"I really hate you." I said, face dead-pan, but started to push the doors to the kitchen open.

"Hey, wait!" he grabbed me, and reached for my crotch.

"BACK UP!" I jumped away, "No touching!"

"I was just trying to take your gun. You don't think this would look suspicious?"

I flushed with embarrassment, and handed it to him, and then entered the kitchen.

"Good luck, Candy!" he called, and as the doors closed, I saw him double over and start laughing hysterically. It echoed down the hall and sent a shiver down my spine.

I stared at the truly epic cake in front of me. How the fuck was I going to get into that thing?

One of the cooks walked over to me, "Oh, are you Candy from the agency?"

I smiled, "Yes."

I was literally dying inside. I am a whore. Oh, he was so going to get it when this was over.

…

I looked down at the cold, hard ground rolling beneath my feet and felt a surge of rage. I clenched my fists. I could hold my own in a fight. Forget the fact that I've never fired a gun or that I'm not necessarily a black-belt in tae kwon do or anything…but I'm still a valuable asset to a team. Or, apparently, my assets were very valuable, I thought bitterly.

This was so fucking humiliating.

As the cake halted, I figured that I was inside the banquet hall. I waited for some type of cue to jump out or something, and I was already trying to work out one of those catch phrases one would think I would use in these situations.

After waiting in that cramped space for a few minutes and starting to truly hate the smell of icing, I heard the sounds of a commotion beginning the banquet hall. I stood up, throwing the top off of the cake, brandishing the second gun I had hidden in my bra (oh yeah, I am that sneaky).

"I guess this is what you would call the icing on the cake." I grinned, proud of myself for coming up with something that ridiculously ironic.

I saw all of the Joker's henchmen surrounding the mobsters from all sides, and I pointed the gun at Randolfini, "Mister J, this is your cue!"

The Joker entered the room in only the presence that he could possess. He struck fear into the hearts of many watching, and I felt my heart swell a little with…pride? I hated him. Yeah, I remember that now. I hate the man. But, still…I had to admit, he has style.

"Good evening, gentlemen." He said with a sickly-sweet grin, and turned to me, "Have you met by lovely assistant Harley Quinn?"

I threw out a mock salute, "I suppose he needed someone cuter to represent him."

"Oh, and that wit!" he laughed theatrically, "Sorry to disappoint, boys, but she isn't the entertainment you're going to get tonight."

I glared at him.

He ignored me, "Let's get down to business, then. From what I understand, mafia man, it's your birthday."

Randolfini, a squat man with a receding hairline and a cheaply made Armani suit, cowered in fear. You'd think someone who has that much power would be able to stand up to a criminal. I figured that something was up. Randolfini could just be a pawn. There has to be a higher up in this operation. There's no way that it could be that easy.

I said nothing, though, but still stood with my gun pointed at Randolfini. I stepped out of the cake, and moved slowly towards him, finally resting my gun at his temple, "I wouldn't suggest moving."

"I wasn't planning on it." He whispered harshly.

"Hey, pay attention!" the Joker snapped, and the room fell silent at the sound of his annoyance, "I'm a very impatient man, Randolfini. On your birthday, I suppose you deserve some special treatment, am I right? But, you know, here's the funny thing. You give people the 'special treatment' all the time in your neck of the woods, so I thought, hey, why don't I give it a shot?"

The Joker was truly a sight when he gained momentum. Even I was a little bit frightened.

"I think you saw this coming, Randolfini. I suppose you knew that you'd be discovered sooner or later. I guess it was sooner." He shrugged, "I'm not exactly a fan of how you operate. You have fingers in all sorts of different pies, don't you? Doesn't that get confusing? I mean, considering your massive drug enterprise and all that sex trafficking between Italy and the United States? Really, it must get so exhausting."

Randolfini was still stiff beside me, not responding.

"So, I've come here to relieve you of your position." The Joker turned to me, "You know what to do, babe."

I stared, wide-eyed, at him, "You mean…you want me to kill him?"

"NO!" Randolfini cried out, "Please don't kill me! What do you want? I will give you money, women, anything you want!"

"I don't want your petty cash or your cheap women." The Joker scoffed, "I just want your business, and I can't exactly be the boss when you're the boss. It doesn't work that way."

"I will give it to you! I swear!" Randolfini babbled.

He was not the leader. I knew it. He wouldn't have broken down this easily.

"Joker, I think we should let him go." I said over the din.

"Harley, if you can't kill a man, then I will." He said, wrestling the gun from my hand, and then proceeded to pull the trigger. Randolfini fell to the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling out from around his head.

I held in a scream, "What the fuck did you just do?!"

"I killed him." He handed me the blood-spattered gun, "Next time, do it when I ask you to. And clean up the gun."

I held it gingerly in my palm, suddenly realizing the power that such a small entity could have.

The Joker turned to the white-faced mafia men, "So, you answer to me now. If any of you object to this, please step forward or forever hold your peace."

No one stepped forward.

"Ah, no up-starters in this bunch. Good. I think we will have a wonderful time together. Please hand over your weapons and go with my men. They will direct you to your next phase of re-employment." The Joker instructed, and snapped his fingers.

After the room had emptied, and he and I were left alone, I approached him, "You could have told me that you planned on eliminating him."

"Yeah, well, this was a surprise party. We had to have surprises." He said, mouth a thin line.

I shook my head in disgust, "I can't believe you. Can I go home now please?"

"Yes, you may go." He said. He wouldn't even look at me.

"Fine," I dropped the gun to the ground, hearing it clack against the marble floor, "I will see you in the morning."

I began to walk out of the hall, and heard him say, "You're weak, Harley."

I stopped, and turned, "What?"

"You're weak." He moved toward me, "You have to toughen up if you want to stick with me. You didn't complain about killing the man before."

"You can't even compare this to what I did before." I furrowed my brow, dubious, "I killed to protect myself. This man was willing to surrender."

"I needed him out of the way." The Joker said dismissively.

"You think you can do whatever you want. You're not omnipotent like you seem to think you are, Mister J." I pointed my finger right in his face, "You can't tell me what to do. I'm here out of my own volition. I will do what I want, when I want. And there's not one fucking thing you can do about it."

And with that, I turned on my heel and stalked away.

He called after me, "Your ass looks so good in that costume!"

"Fuck you!" I flipped him off over my shoulder.

"You're so mature, that's why I love you, darling!" he chuckled as I left the building.

…

It was nearly 3 o'clock in the morning when I got back to my apartment. I had changed in a nearby outhouse (I still shudder at the memory of the smell) on the way back. My eyelids were drooping as I pressed the button for my floor in the elevator. No one was up and about this time of night, so I was alone. I leaned against the railing in the elevator, contemplating what had just happened.

I was expected to commit all sorts of terrible crimes. I suppose I should have anticipated that this is what my job entailed. It's my naiveté that always brings me down.

I stepped out of the elevator, and turned my key in the lock, entering my apartment. I threw my costume, which was safely stowed away in a shopping bag, on the couch. I collapsed onto my futon, exhausted.

I felt all the anxiety of tonight dissipate as I lay down on the futon, feeling the warmth of the cushions beneath me. I just wanted to sleep. I just needed sleep, and then I would feel as good as new in the morning.

Although I suppose that the fact that I had witnessed a murder would probably weigh on my mind for some indefinite amount of time after this moment. I could still hear the gunshot next to me, the horrible crunching sound of skull hitting marble…ugh; I don't want to think about anymore.

I had just closed my eyes and was dozing off when I heard a voice behind me, "So how did your first assignment go?"


	9. Nature of My Game

**A/N: Wow, I have been gone a long time. I apologize. It's the summer now (FINALLY!), so now writing may elude me once in a while because I need to see people instead of spending my life on a computer all the time like at college. Haha. Oh well, here's the next chapter, hopefully I will get another one done within the next couple of weeks! **

**R&R! Thank you all so much for reading and being patient with me!**

Chapter 9: Nature of My Game

_Pleased to meet you_

_Hope you guess my name_

_But what's puzzling you_

_Is just the nature of my game_

"_Sympathy for the Devil," The Rolling Stones_

I jumped up, startled from my half-conscious state. The Batman was standing in my living room, arms folded across his chest.

I put a hand on my heart, "Do you always enter places without announcing your presence?"

He appeared puzzled, or, well, as puzzled as one can look behind a mask, "Yes, I suppose I do."

I sighed, "It's the middle of the night."

"I was checking up on you."

"Why do you feel the need to do that?" I frowned, sitting back on my couch, annoyed at the lack of sleep I was going to get tonight.

"Did I disturb you?" he asked.

"Yes. And thanks for avoiding the question." I pointed out.

"I didn't avoid the question. I just don't have an adequate answer for you at the moment." He said curtly, "You avoided my question, if I remember correctly."

I flushed, "Oh, right. It wasn't pleasant."

"Yes, I know. I just came from the crime scene. It was a rather bloody mess, I must say. What was the Joker's motive for offing Randolfini?" he crossed the room, standing in front of me.

"I don't know, exactly. He's a secretive man." I settled into the couch, folding my arms across my barely-clad chest (I was in a camisole and pajama pants), and said, "I didn't even know the plan until we got to the banquet hall."

"Hmm…" he looked pensive, "He is a spontaneous type."

"Brilliant deduction, Holmes," I rolled my eyes.

"You don't need to be condescending."

"Why can't I see under the mask, by the way?" I inquired, "We have been working together for months, Batman. I am risking the Joker's trust – and my life – to work with you. I think you might owe it to me."

"I don't let anyone know my real identity. Lives will get compromised in the process. I lost many important people because of their association with me." He snapped, "Do you want to end up like everyone else?"

"I won't, because the Joker thinks that I am trustworthy." I said.

"I really doubt that."

"He let me participate in his missions. Unless you think he has an ulterior motive…?"

The Batman was quiet.

I stood up, and walked over to him, "You know something, don't you?" I poked his leathery chest, "Tell me what you're thinking. I can read it all over your face."

"I'm thinking that the Joker is setting you up somehow. He let you in way too easily."

I took a step back, "It's because he still loves me. He told me that. People are in love are easily manipulated. Their senses are dulled, blocked by the endorphins…"

"Spare me the psycho babble." He held up a hand, rendering me into submission, "He is not an easily manipulated man, like you seem to think. He is cruel and ruthless. I worry about you, you know."

"Why?"

He was flustered, "You are a friend of mine, and I wish to see you alive."

"Oh, so we're friends?" I cocked my head, "That's news to me. You know all about me, Batman, but I know absolutely jack shit about you. Want to clear a few things up?"

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I just want you to offer up some details about your life! All you care about is me, what I'm doing." I clenched my fists tightly at my sides, "I think you could at least reciprocate."

"I really should go." He said uncomfortably. He started to make a break for the window.

"Are you going to come back anytime soon?" I called after him.

"When I gather some more information that may be useful to you, I'll let you know." He then disappeared with the familiar swish of his dark cape.

Why are all the men in my life so elusive?

…

I couldn't back to sleep after the encounter. The Batman had revealed some very disturbing things in his actions and words. Forgive me for having the doctorate in psychology, but I do tend to analyze body movements. I noticed the way his eyes always glanced down at my (ok, I have to admit it) ample chest, the hungry look that men had. That bothered me. Did he have feelings for me?

I couldn't say truthfully that I felt nothing for him, either. He was a hero, but he was so much deeper than that. He had a cause, and I wish I knew why he had the cause, why he wants to be this hero. Perhaps something traumatic has happened in his past…but I couldn't deny the small bit of attraction I felt for him. He was a strong, moral, and thrilling individual. His life may have its scruples, but it was nothing I couldn't understand or handle. Why was I thinking about all of this when I am supposed to be sleeping?

I am just confusing my feelings as being romantic when in reality, I simply admire the man for his work. That has to be it. I had resigned myself months ago to never fall for anyone like I did for John again. I would only end up broken and depressed. The Joker had ruined my life but yet I still undeniably cared enough about him to stick around. That was something I had to deal with…but just not right now.

When my alarm clock sounded painfully loud in my ear, I groaned, sitting up stiffly. Another day, another crime waiting to be committed. Wonderful.

I walked, bleary-eyed, into my living room to grab my costume, all the while raking a comb through my knotted blonde curls. It was enough to distract me for a minute or two until I saw the Batman sitting on my couch.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, dropping my comb with a clack against the marble floor.

"Hello, Harley," he stood up, "I have come to apologize for my rude behavior last night."

"No need for that," I said, my hand on my chest, waiting for my heart to stop racing, "Good Lord, you gave me a coronary."

"I apologize again, for that as well." He said solemnly.

"How much have you gotten tonight?" I asked, picking the comb up from the floor.

"Would you believe 4 hours?"

"No, not really," I shrugged.

"Alright, fine, I'd say 2, at the most." He admitted.

"Same here," I sighed, collapsing on the couch next to him, "Thank you for coming back here to apologize. It was unnecessary, but very sweet. I really apprec-"

"I think it's time I tell you who is beneath this mask." He blurted out.

"Oh, um…well, if you think that's best." I said hesitantly, "Don't you think personal alliances will compromise our mission?"

"I want to tell you." He said, dark eyes staring intensely into my own.

"Alright," I said, a little breathlessly.

"Good. Meet me at Alfredo's at 8 o'clock tonight. If you are otherwise delayed, I will come here around midnight." He said, and with a swoosh of his cape, was gone.

How the fuck does he do that?

As I got dressed, my heart was still pounding in my chest excitedly. I was finally going to find out who the Batman was. I will know a secret, and I will hold a relationship that the Joker could have never predicted. That, to me, was invaluable.

I threw my black pea-coat on over my costume, and waited yet again for the elevator.

I was startled by the sound of scuffles coming from the Murrays' apartment. The door was thrown open, and Kevin emerged, holding up Julia, who was breathing heavily.

"Oh my god, Kevin, is she alright?" I rushed over.

"She's going into labor." He said, panicked, "Can you help me get her into the elevator, and call us a cab?"

"Of course, of course!" I ushered them into the elevator as it opened, and held Julia.

She looked up at me, her brown eyes terrified, "Is it going to be awful, Harley?"

"No, no," I assured her, "It's going to seem awful now, but you're going to be so happy when it is all said and done that you won't even remember your fears. My mom told me that when I was born, she forgot every single trouble and regret she ever had, because those would only get in the way when she was raising me. She told me that motherhood was all about sacrifice, and even though that seems like a lot to think about right now, she said the only experience in life you will never regret is becoming a mother. She swore this up and down until the day she died."

The elevator doors opened, and Kevin pulled Julia out, me following closely behind them.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harley, when did your mother pass?" Kevin asked as we were waiting for the cab to pick them up.

"My parents died 3 months ago in a fire." I said without trying to betray any sort of emotion.

"Oh my God, that's just terrible. Let us know if you ever want to come over, have some dinner. I know it must get lonely in that apartment all by yourself." Julia smiled.

"Thank you so much for offering. I may take you up on that one day." I returned the smile.

The cab arrived, and I helped Julia inside. Kevin leaned out the window, "We are so grateful that you helped us, Harley. We won't forget about this."

"It was no trouble at all." I shook my head, "Now go have that baby!"

The cab sped off into the early morning, and I stood there for a moment. I hadn't thought about my mother in such a long time; it hit me rather hard. My mother, even with all of our ups and downs, had been my role model. She was a pillar of strength and courage, and I never realized how much she sacrificed for Maggie and me until I stared at her charred face in the coffin before they put her six feet under, and six feet away from me forever.

I have to shake this off. The Joker preys on emotion. I can't let him in. I can't let him know what is going on between me and the Batman, or the fact that I am still in mourning. He would only use the information to make me come closer to him, which is a road I will not go down again.

Clutching my pea-coat tightly against my freezing, scantily-clad body, I hailed a cab into the downtown area toward the warehouse. I was careful not to get off at the exact address for fear of suspicion.

I rushed toward the building, knowing already that I was going to be reprimanded for being late. Helping someone to a hospital wasn't exactly an excuse in the Joker's book.

Antoine was waiting for me at the back door, "He's pissed." He said in his gruff voice as I pushed past him.

"Yeah, I figured that!" I called behind me as I scurried down the hallway and to the Joker's private office.

I knocked on the door somewhat timidly and heard his voice say firmly, "Enter."

I pushed the door open, and saw him standing with his back toward me, "You're late."

"Yeah, I knew that." I closed the door behind me softly, "I'm sorry."

"I don't accept your apology." He snapped, turning around, "Where the hell were you that had to be 45 minutes late?"

"My neighbor's wife was in labor; I was helping them hire a cab." I tried to explain, but he held up a hand, cutting me off.

"Since when do you care about other people?" he asked, walking toward me, "I really think you should consider staying here if this is going to be a constant problem."

"It's not going to be a problem." I said quickly, "It won't happen again, alright? I just got really side-tracked with life this morning."

"Oh, really? Well, enlighten me." He leaned against his desk, raking a hand through his hair, frustrated, "I'd really like to know what you consider more important than being here."

"I have insomnia." I admitted, "I've had it for months, ever since you killed my parents. I think it's just starting to catch up with me. When I do sleep, I keep seeing them in my dreams. They're like shadows against the wall. I can't ignore them."

I began to pace a little about the office, "I can't fight the anguish I feel every time I wake up alone. I am losing the battle between my thoughts and my consciousness. I feel so angry all the time. I just want with every fiber of my being to eliminate you, to make you pay for what you've done to me. I can't stop hating you. I can't stop believing that getting rid of you will make all of us go away, even though it probably won't. I just want to be normal again, and I know I can't."

"Everything about my life seems empty, I guess." I sighed, "I just need to see the point in me living on this earth if I have nothing to live for."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I interjected, "Please don't talk right now. Just listen to me. Can you do that? Yes, I can't fight that I have feelings for you. I'm not saying that I love you, alright? I'm just saying that I can't breathe with you around, but yet I can't breathe without you. I'm constantly fighting myself inside my head. I don't know how I can love you and hate you at the same time. I don't understand my own emotions, and that's frustrating. I have every reason in the world to hate you, but I know I can't kill you because I will never be the same."

I stared at him, "I thought about my mom this morning. I thought about what she told me when I was young, to be strong and to fight your own battles. I realized how much I need her right now, and she can't be here for me because you took her away. You've made my life into ruins so that I would come back to you."

"Harley…" he grabbed my hand, "I wanted you back more than anything. I wanted so badly for you to love me, so I did what I had to so I could break your heart, because that was the only way I could get you back."

"I suppose, in its own twisted way, that makes sense." I exhaled deeply, "You really care about me that much to kill everyone I love to get what you wanted?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, that's the general gist of it."

"That's extremely sick, and romantic to the extreme." I pointed out.

"But you like it?" he smiled.

"I don't know, actually." I said blankly, "I'm contemplating that."

"That is better than a no." he laughed, and gestured for me to sit down in the chair across from his desk, "I have a few things for you to do today."

I cocked an eyebrow, "Oh, really? What shall I do today? Dress up like a French maid and dust your office?"

"That would be amazing, but sadly that is not one of your duties." He said, "It's more like paperwork matters."

"Paperwork," I repeated.

"Are you deaf? I, um, have some liability problems."

"I'm no lawyer." I folded my arms across my chest, "What makes you think I have any authority in those kind of matters?"

"Your mother was a lawyer. You must have picked up some knowledge somewhere." He said dismissively, handing me a pile of papers, "You need to tell me what I'm in for here if they catch me."

"You're actually scared that they might catch you?" I was surprised.

"I can have some fears like everyone else. I can break out of any prison they are willing to put me in, but I'd prefer not to go there unless I'm completely cornered." He shrugged, "It's not like it's never happened before."

"If you do go to jail, I'm not breaking you out again." I snapped, standing up, "You think I'm just going to come to your rescue every time you call?"

"Yeah, actually I do." He grinned.

"Fuck you," I said, hugging the papers to my chest, "I guess I'll get to work on sorting these out."

"Thatta girl." The Joker chuckled, "I knew I could depend on you."

"Whatever," I slammed the door behind me as I left, sighing with exasperation. Doing his paperwork? Really? There's nothing better for me to do? Yesterday I was expected to murder someone and now I'm his secretary? He's rather bipolar for a villain.

As I worked on the papers, I found myself daydreaming a little. I did, after all, have dinner with the Batman tonight. A list of possibilities ran through my head. Who could he be? He had to be good-looking. That was for damn sure. No one could have that nice of a bone structure and not be attractive.

Ok, so sue me if I noticed.

…

I worked on the papers/legal documents for over 3 hours before the Joker decided to grace me with his presence again.

"How's it going?" he asked, leaning against the doorway.

"You realize you could go to jail for like life based on how much damage you've done to this city?" I sighed, shuffling the papers.

"Yeah, well, I kind of figured that." He shrugged, "You can take a break if you want. I'm feeling piteous at the moment, so take advantage of it while it lasts."

"Indeed I will." I jumped up, and cringed as I realized that my legs had fallen asleep from sitting in the same position for that long, "Can I have some coffee?"

"What do you think this is, a hotel?" he laughed, "But, yes, you can. I didn't peg you for a coffee drinker, Harley."

"I've involuntarily become a caffeine addict." I said, following him down the hall to his office, "Perhaps that might add to my insomnia."

"Brilliant deduction, Watson."

"Oh, fuck you and your Sherlock Holmes quotes. I am so not the Watson to your Holmes." I protested, struggling to keep up with him in my black leather high heeled boots.

"I could have sworn you were the sidekick." He mused, and looked me up and down, "On the other hand, you are good deal better looking."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically, "I need to have more energy to banter with you. Where's the fucking coffee?"

He opened the door and pointed to the espresso maker that apparently just appeared in his office.

"Ah," I said simply, walking over to it. It was a little lower than my current stature, so I leaned down to press the button, sending scalding hot coffee into my plastic cup.

"Damn, you have a fine ass. You work out, Harley?" the Joker asked, making this extremely inappropriate growl to accompany the inquiry.

"No," I answered promptly, "I was blessed with a swift metabolism."

"Thank God for metabolism, then." He grinned.

I had to smile a little at his eagerness to compliment me. He did try…sometimes.

I perched on the edge of my chair, sipping at the coffee, careful not to burn my tongue.

"Um, mainly I called you in here to apologize for my behavior earlier." The Joker sat on his desk in front of me, "You're not a bad person, Harley. I was being an ass-hole. I think you must have had a legitimate excuse to be late, because you know the consequences if I'm not happy with you."

"That's not cryptically evil at all."

"Will you let me finish?"

"I guess," I blew on the coffee in a failed attempt to cool it.

"Would you like to explain what happened this morning?"

"Well, I was leaving – on time, mind you – but my neighbor's wife was in labor and they needed help hailing a cab. That's all." I said.

"Huh," he drummed his fingers on the desk idly, "I can't blame you for being a Good Samaritan."

"You believe in God, Mister J?"

"Not as much as I used to," he answered nonchalantly.

"That's interesting."

"What is?"

"That you have faith. I would have pegged you for the 'religion is a crock' type." I laughed, "I would think a person who makes his life all about undermining society as a whole would believe that religion is a futile attempt to unite humanity…or something like that."

"No, I think you may be confusing me with yourself."

"I don't think religion is a crock." I protested.

"Then why go on a tangent about it? You seemed pretty heated about the topic."

"I guess I wasn't raised to be religious." I reminisced, "My parents never had time to take us to church when we were young, so we never got into the habit. In a way, I sort of wish they had so that I didn't become so old and jaded at such a young age."

"You think religion gives you innocence?"

"Not necessarily innocence, but it gives you the idea that life is worth something at the end, that you don't just go through the day-to-day and bust your ass for nothing. I would prefer to believe that we go to Heaven instead of just decomposing into maggot-covered corpses and then being absorbed into the dirt." I said bluntly.

"What beautiful imagery," he remarked.

"It is what happens to us biologically." I pointed out.

"Oh, Harley," he just chuckled and shook his head, "You amuse me."

"Thanks?"

"You just have such an interesting point of view about everything. I could listen to you for hours on end and probably never get bored."

"Probably?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"I don't promise anything."

By this point, I had finished my coffee, "Well, is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

"Finish the paperwork and go home. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow." He smiled secretively, "Just make sure you find me before you leave."

"Um…alright…" I threw my coffee into the trash can, and stood up.

A big day ahead of us…that didn't sound legal.


	10. Lose Control

**A/N: I like this chapter. A little surprise and a cliffhanger. I love it. Much quicker this time, ne?**

**R&R please and thank you! I do not own Batman and its affiliated characters.**

Chapter 10: Lose Control

_And that haunted me, all the way home_

_So you never know, never, never know_

_Never know enough until it's over love_

_Till we lose control, system overload_

_Screaming 'no, no, no, no, no!' _

"_Love Lockdown," __Kanye__ West _

I stepped out of the limo that 'the Batman' sent for me, a direct assumption that he had money. Score one for Harley…er, well, not that I'm keeping tabs or anything…

Let's just get on with this.

It was probably the fanciest restaurant I had ever seen, and I had seen some pretty nice restaurants in my lifetime. From what I had heard about this place, food cost more than some people in Gotham's rent. I suppose that should have bothered me, but when you have more money than you know what to do with, price isn't necessarily an object.

The seating host smiled at me as I walked into the restaurant, obviously looking confused.

I can't say it's one of my most attractive faces.

"Excuse me, miss, are you Harleen Quinzel?" he called.

I turned to face him, relieved, "Yes."

"Your date is waiting for you." He gestured for me to follow him.

I frowned at him, "Do I know you from somewhere?"

He looked surprised, but shook his head, "No, ma'am."

I shrugged it off. Maybe I was just way too tired.

I followed him into the restaurant and finally out onto a private terrace with only one table set for two. A man sat at the table with his back toward me. Still elusive until the very last moment, I see.

The hostess pulled out my chair, and I sat down, looking into the face of…Bruce Wayne.

I can't say I was shocked, but still my face held a total look of surprise nonetheless.

"Hello," he smiled.

"I knew it was you." I said breathlessly, "I knew it!"

"Really? And how did you figure that?" he laughed at my expression.

"I don't know; I just figured that only a rich guy would send me in a limo to a very expensive restaurant in Manhattan. And the only really rich guy I knew of was you, Bruce Wayne! I mean, come on, Bruce, we've known each other since we were children! I'm kind of an idiot for not recognizing your voice." I said, hitting my forehead with my palm.

"I do try to disguise it on purpose, you know." He pointed out.

"Yeah, well, that's beside the point." I said dismissively, "This is such a pleasant surprise. How have you been? I haven't seen you in years! Last I heard you disappeared into the mountains to become a hermit or something."

As he explained his story to me, I remembered when I had met Bruce Wayne. We were children, not yet even 6 years old. Our parents had always gotten along well; our fathers had worked at the same hospital together since before we were even born. I think they had always had it in their hearts for me to marry him. We were nearly the same age and came from the social circle, so I guess it made sense thinking about it now as a 28-year-old rather than a 6-year-old, who still thought boys carried some type of disease and wouldn't want to touch him with a ten-foot-pole.

Then the Wayne's had died. I barely remember the funeral; Maggie had been a toddler at the time. My parents had been quite devastated at the loss. They even offered to take Bruce in for a while, but Alfred, his still elderly butler, assured my parents that he would take good care of him.

The last moment I truly remembered about him was when he had attended my college graduation party 6 years ago. He was already running the Wayne Empire by then, and very successful at it, too. I had felt so inadequate, only graduating college, but I had accepted the prestigious internship to get my doctorate in psychology from NYU.

He and I both had gotten a little tipsy at the party and had kissed once, and turning away quickly, embarrassed as hell. We had practically grown up together. It was then that he told me that he was going off to some foreign land to 'find himself.' I couldn't blame him; he was evidently restless with the corporate environment and needed a break. He had been forced to become an adult at such a young age. He deserved a little rest and relaxation.

"So, why didn't you stay in touch, Harley?" he asked, interrupting my train of thought.

"Oh, well, I knew you came back a couple of years ago, but I figured you didn't want to see me or that you were too busy." I said, flushing a bit, "You do have the whole super hero gig and all."

He raised an eyebrow, "I wouldn't exactly advertise that."

"Sorry," I said quickly, "I mean, what super hero? I don't know any super heroes around here."

"Subtle," he said, face dead-pan.

"Never was one of my specialties." I winked at him.

Really, I just winked. He was going to think I'm a total creep. He probably had like a million girlfriends waiting in his penthouse for him to come back.

He smiled, "I missed you, Harley. I felt like we never had any closure."

"With what?" I asked, puzzled.

"Oh, well, you know the fact that I kind of kissed you and left." He said, sipping his wine, "I apologize for that. For a while, it was all I could think about, to be honest. I guess things just started piling up and I never got a chance to explain myself."

"That's alright." I said reassuringly, "Don't worry about it. I sort of forgot about it, too, with life getting in the way…"

"How are you holding up?"

"Barely," I admitted, "It's still kind of fresh in my mind."

"I hate to be a pessimist, but it really never goes away. I'm almost 30 years old and I still miss them every day. I'm here for you, if you need me." He grabbed my hand, squeezing it.

"That's sweet, Bruce, but I'm alright, really." I smiled thinly.

"Do you want to talk about it? We have time."

"I'm seriously going to cry. Do you want to deal with that?" I leaned back in my chair.

"It's not like I've never seen a woman cry before." He snorted with indignation, "Try me."

"Well, um…where do I begin? My job at Arkham was going so well, until…he…came along. I don't know what the hell I was thinking, letting him loose. I still can't justify in my head why I did it. After my sister died, I had to get out of here." I began.

"Understandably," Bruce interjected.

"Yeah," I affirmed, "Because I thought that he did it – killed her, I mean – but then I just found out that it was her abusive ex-boyfriend. I can't say that that was a load off of my shoulders, but…anyway, I went away to a small town here in New York for a few months and I got engaged…"

"Engaged?" he interrupted, "Whoa, hold up! You're married?!"

"No. I'll explain." I said calmly, "The Joker came back when he found out, and he shot my fiancé, burned the entire church down with almost 100 people inside, including my parents…"

"Oh my God. I had no idea." Bruce shook his head in disbelief, "Now I really have to kill him."

"Don't be too hasty." I said warningly, "I'm handling it. You know that."

"Well, all you told me that he was responsible for your family's death. You never really explained all the fine details." He said, sounding offended.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you everything at first. I didn't want you to do something stupid. I want to be responsible for the elimination of the Joker. You are going to help me, not do it for me."

"I know, I know," he said, "But I just feel like there's something more I could do."

"You are doing plenty." I assured him, "I have to resolve my own issues. You have many more things to worry about."

"Yeah, that's true." He said, downing his wine in one gulp, "This is the first social outing I've had in a very long time."

"Same for me," I said, "That's so pathetic, isn't it? We're just so into our work."

"Amen to that." He said.

The rest of the meal went well. We joked and laughed, the food was fabulous and expensive, and I got a limo ride home. I can say it was pretty nice to be treated like a princess again.

After we arrived at my building, he walked me to the lobby, and while we waited for the elevator awkwardly, I asked, "Um, do you want to come up or something?"

He looked relieved, "I didn't want to ask, but yes, I would."

"Alright," I smiled.

We entered the elevator, silently waiting as it reached my penthouse suite on the top floor. I pulled out my keys and opened the door to my suite.

"I suppose this shouldn't be a surprise since you've seen it before." I teased.

He laughed, "Yeah, I guess so."

He meandered around the room for a few minutes, "You have a great decorator."

"Thanks, I'm really proud of my work." I said, grinning.

"You did all of this?" he said incredulously.

"Well, designed it." I said modestly.

"That's…wow, you've got talent." He said, "I might have to fire my decorator and sign you up for the job."

"I suppose I could give it a shot." I shrugged.

We sat down on my couch, a few feet apart.

"Um, would you like some wine? It always relaxes me." I inquired.

"Yeah, that'd be fine."

I grabbed a bottle from the kitchen, and two glasses. I poured some into each of the glasses and presented one to him.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem."

He looked pensive for a moment, "A toast."

I lifted my glass, giggling, "Ok, to what?"

"To me doing this."

I opened my mouth to ask what he intended on doing, but he leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Ah, so that was what he intended on doing.

Ok, so I am totally kissing the Batman right now.

I'm not freaking out at all.

Ok, fine, maybe a little.

He pulled away, "Oh my God, Harley, I'm sorry!"

"Sorry for what?" I smiled, "It's not like it hasn't happened before."

Even he had to offer a half-smile at that, "True…but, ah, I feel like I'm leading you on."

"It's not like we're looking for any sort of relationship or anything." I shrugged.

"Yes, that would look a little awkward, wouldn't it? Me dating a woman who was almost committed for letting the Joker free from Arkham and now lives alone in her penthouse apartment with her murdered parents' trust fund."

"Ok, I get the point." I said shortly.

"Sorry…" he looked sheepish, "And, well, also considering the fact that the Joker might come after me and hack me to pieces only to find out that I'm Batman. My cover would kind of be blown."

"Yeah, that would undoubtedly happen." I agreed, "However, it doesn't mean that there cannot be some covert kisses every now and then."

"I like that idea."

"I figured you might." I laughed.

We then kissed again, even deeper than before. He pushed me backward a little onto the couch, his hands moving further down my chest.

"Um, a bit forward for the first date, isn't it?" I asked.

He sat up, "Oh God, I'm sorry. I lost control for a moment there."

"So did I," I admitted.

"Well…um…" he said awkwardly.

"Maybe we should talk some other time." I filled in.

"Yes, that would be great. I'll see you tomorrow." He stood up.

I followed him to the door of my suite, "Good night, Bruce."

"Good night, Harley." He then kissed me again, nearly making me go weak at the knees, "I hope this date was memorable."

"Oh, yeah, definitely," I said breathlessly.

…

Of course, that night I couldn't sleep for obvious reasons. I couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed of what I had just done not a few hours ago. I sort of felt like I was…cheating. Yet, I wasn't. The Joker and I's relationship was nothing but an act on both ends. He truly couldn't still care about me in that way. At least I hoped so.

I had a feeling of dread seep through me. If he found out about this, I was completely fucked. What Bruce and I were doing was dangerous for the both of us. On one hand, the Joker could go after him and consequently find out that he is Batman, and everyone would go after Bruce. That could not be on my conscience. He was the only savior that this city had, especially since Harvey Dent died almost a year ago. Even though people in Gotham criticize the Batman, he does all the good that this city needs to keep from falling into oblivion.

Or to the Joker.

…

Seven o'clock in the morning reached me as slowly as it always did, and I managed to roll out of bed and make myself a coffee. I sat at my kitchen table, letting the caffeine rejuvenate my sleep-deprived system. I think all the coffee in the world was not going to help me at this point. I was already shaking with nerves. I didn't know how I could keep cool in front of the Joker. That wasn't exactly my strong suit.

As I took my usual cab and stared out at the falling rain, I was reminded of the first time I killed someone, almost a year ago now. I couldn't believe it had been that long. The rain pouring down the face, blended with my hysterical tears. I guess it wasn't a happy memory, but it was something I never forgot.

I opened the door to the Joker's office, what I hoped was a genuine smile plastered on my face.

"So, what did you do last night when you got home?" he asked, his back turned to me.

I froze, racking my brain for a logical response, "I went out with a friend."

"Oh, really…hmm…because a very reliable source told me that you were out with a man last night." He said, calmer than he should have been in this moment.

"Damn it," I cursed under my breath, "I knew that waiter looked familiar."

"Yeah, you remember Johnny." He swiveled around, smiling bitterly, "And he told me that your date was Bruce Wayne."


	11. Pay the Price

**A/N: I enjoyed writing this chapter. The quotes in italics are from the song "Hospital Beds" by Cold War Kids.**

**I don't own the characters, I just own their emotions. Muahaha! Also, I am putting the prologue in with the first chapter because it's too confusing with the drop down box for chapters.**

Chapter 11: Pay the Price

_You'll just say the worst of me, _

_With a hope they'll understand_

_No, they know you're just a boy_

_So grow up and be that man_

_Little baby, kicking, you scream and whine_

_Victims pay the price eventually_

_The cost? Let's see…your life._

"_Mother Superior," Coheed and Cambria _

"Bruce Wayne…" I repeated, dumbstruck.

"Yes, the richest man in the city. How the hell would you know him?"

"What, you think I don't have a social life?" I asked indignantly.

"Well, frankly, yes." He snapped.

"Ok, fine, I know it was a bit sudden. We've been friends for years, and he called me yesterday saying he wanted to get together and who am I to say no?" I walked toward him, "It's not like you own me or something."

"Oh, yes, I do." We were finally facing each other, "When you step into this warehouse every day, and I resist the urge to strangle you until you turn blue, Harley, I do own you. You know I keep you around because I love you."

"Oh there you fucking go again, throwing that word around! You don't love me and you know it! You just want to lull me into a false sense of security so that you can turn around and, as you put it, strangle me until I turn blue! Well, you know what? I stay around because I want to do the same to you, Joker! We have the same goals in this relationship and we're at a standstill! What do you care if I go out to a restaurant with a man?" I exclaimed.

"Well, maybe I'm fucking jealous then, alright?!" he screamed at me, "Maybe I don't want to hear that you're out there seeing other men and getting yourself all dressed up and made up! Maybe I don't want to know that you don't give a shit about me!"

"Because I don't!" I yelled back, "I don't give a shit about me! Finally you fucking comprehend! You are such an idiot! You think other men won't notice all of this?"

"Of course I do! And I don't want that for you! I want you to be with me, don't you understand?!"

"I do understand and I don't want to be with you! Don't you fucking get it, or are you too blinded by your own feelings to listen to me?! I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU!!! I never was and never will be because of what you did to me!" Furious tears were forming in my eyes, "I could never forgive you! I need to kill you to make sure that you don't ruin any more people's lives like you did mine! I need to prove to myself – and to my family – that I can win over you! It's an eye for an eye, and you already took my eyes, so guess what? Get ready to be fucking blinded!"

Ok, I thought I was pretty clever. You would too. Admit it.

"So you want to exact vengeance on me? Is that it? Do you really think that your family would have wanted that for you? To be a killer?" he asked.

"Don't start with that psycho bullshit! I am the psychologist here, not you! Remember, I treated you."

"Well, that didn't exactly pan out, did it?" he said snidely.

"Oh shut up!" I snapped, face growing hot, "God damn it, you twist and you turn and you leave nothing left to say. This discussion is not about my intentions; this discussion is about the fact that I went on a date with Bruce Wayne."

"Oh, so it was a date now, huh? Did he take you home, Harley? Did he kiss you? I have to know, because I want to know how pissed off I need to be when I pummel him." He cracked his knuckles.

"That's none of your business." I said petulantly.

"You little bitch," he said incredulously, "Don't patronize me."

"You're letting me."

"Why the fuck do I love you?! You're so fucking frustrating!" he made an apostrophe to the ceiling.

"I don't know, honestly. I'd really love to know why you care so much about me, Mister J. I could use a good laugh right now." I collapsed in the chair.

"Because you're ridiculously clever, intelligent, reckless, determined, selfish, and beautiful; what else is there to say about you? You're so reserved yet you throw caution to the wind. I don't know; you're just so unpredictable. That's why I love the most about you. You're like me in a way, except maybe not as insane."

"I would certainly hope not." My ice-driven heart warmed a little at his description, albeit a not so becoming one.

"But you're pretty damn close," he pointed out.

"Ok, we don't need to elaborate." I said with a dead-pan face.

"Ah, goddamn it, you got me off topic again!" he exclaimed, wagging his finger at me, "You're good at that."

"You do that pretty well on your own." I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Ok, shut up now." He snapped, "I'm not done yelling at you for going on a date without my permission."

"Who the fuck are you, my fath…" My mouth clamped shut.

My father. Another topic I didn't want to talk about anymore.

I had another flashback to my past in that moment.

_There's nothing to do here, just whine and complain_

_In bed at the hospital_

_Coming and going_

_Asleep and awake in bed at the hospital_

The stark white hospital, my father pacing back and forth in front of the operating room, biting his nails fervently; he would glance at me and Maggie occasionally. I was so young then, and Maggie even younger. I suppose I was old enough to comprehend the situation. My mom could die at any moment on that table, but somehow I held it together. I had always been the backbone of the family.

My dad was falling to pieces in front of my eyes; he had been since Mom was diagnosed. He was too dependent on her; she was the love of his life. In my mind, the main reason I didn't want my Mom to leave us was because my father would never be able to handle the magnitude of raising two little girls alone without her help. He just couldn't. He knew it himself.

Maggie struggled a bit in her sleep, whimpering.

I stroked her dark hair back from her forehead, and asked, "Daddy?"

He didn't hear me.

"Daddy? Maggie is so heavy." She had been lying on my lap for at least 3 hours.

"Sweetheart, your mommy isn't out yet." He said distractedly, not even glancing in my direction as he spoke to me.

"Daddy, I'm so tired." I whined.

His eyes grew wild, and he whipped around to face me, "Do you want your mom to die, Harleen?"

My lower lip trembled in fear, "No, Daddy, I'm just so tired. Maggie is, too."

"I know, honey, I know." His face softened, "Daddy needs sleep, too. But I have to worry about your mom right now."

"Ok," I said quietly.

It seemed endless, waiting for Mom to come out of surgery.

Our doctor stepped out of the room, handing his gloves to one of the attending nurses. He saw us, and stepped forward.

I could hear my father's pounding heart even from where I sat a few feet away. His face was blanched paler than I had ever seen it, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words could come out.

The doctor smiled, "She's fine. She has stabilized and we managed to remove 99 percent of the cancer from her ovaries. She will never be able to reproduce again, but there is no doubt that she will survive this."

My father exhaled with relief, almost falling to his knees on the floor.

Maggie stirred awake, "Harley, what…?"

"Mommy's ok, Maggie. She's not sick anymore." I grinned.

"That's…good…" and she drifted off again.

"We will take her to her room," the doctor was saying, "You and girls can visit her once she wakes up from the anesthesia."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Chase." My father shook the man's head vehemently, "You are a wonderful man, and an incredible surgeon."

"Please, Mr. Quinzel, you don't need to thank me." Dr. Chase said modestly, "You have been a good friend to me all these years; it was the least I could do."

_Tell me the story of how you ended up here_

_I've heard it all in the hospital_

I saw my mother soon after that. My dad carried the still fast-asleep Maggie into the room, and held my hand. I clutched it tighter when I saw my mother. She looked so peaceful lying in her bed, but so thin, so worn. I was so used to the robust and energetic Mom I had before.

Now, before my eyes, she had wasted away to almost nothing, and her head was shaved bald. She would wear a wig for the rest of her life.

Tears sprang to my eyes, purely from confusion and fright. This couldn't be my mommy. At this point, I hadn't seen her in almost 3 months, and what a change had come of that. My father wouldn't allow us to go to chemotherapy with her.

"Mommy…" I touched her hand, and her eyes opened slowly.

She smiled a little groggily, "Harley, honey…what are you…doing here?"

"I wanted to see you, Mommy." I said.

"Well, I'm ok now, sweetie." She looked at my father, "Henry…"

"Maria," he said. I swore I saw tears in his eyes, too.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Feeling a little drowsy, but no worse for the wear." She replied with a weary smile.

"Dr. Chase said you are going to be fine." He came closer to the bed, "He said you can home in a week or so. The cancer is pretty much beat."

She frowned, "It will never be gone, Henry."

"I know," he said, taken aback at her harsh words, "But it's gone for now, and we need to be thankful for that."

Her face softened, "Of course. How's Maggie holding up?"

"She had no idea what was going on," he said, putting her on one of the chairs in the room, "She was asleep the entire time."

"That's good," she said, looking relieved, "I'd rather her never remember this."

But I always would. They forgot about that.

_Put out the fire boys_

_Put out the fire on us_

_Put out the fire boys_

_Don't stop, don't stop_

…

"Harley?" I was forced back to reality. The Joker was staring concernedly at me.

"What?" I asked, "What's your problem?"

"You totally blanked out for a minute there."

"Oh…I'm sorry. I was just remembering…my parents." I said quietly.

"What about them?"

"When I was younger, a much simpler time then," I mused.

"My childhood was far from simple." He said bitterly.

"I know," I tried to sound gentle, "You told me all about it."

"Do you really miss them that much?"

"Yeah, I do." I snapped, "And I wouldn't have to remember them so much if you hadn't decided to blow them up."

"I didn't intend for them to die. That was just an unfortunate side effect of the fire." He shrugged.

My mouth was agape unattractively, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"Huh?"

"How can you be so emotionless about this situation?"

"Because I have killed a lot of people in my life, Harley." He said, "I have grown to be callous."

"Well, I still haven't." I said hotly, "Who was it that you intended on killing when you started that fire, anyway?"

"You and the prick," he answered promptly.

"His name was John," I said, closing my eyes, asking God to give me patience.

"I don't give a shit."

"Well, I did." I stood up, "If you're not going to talk about this like a decent human being, then I am just going to walk out right now."

"Fine, do it. I don't care. I don't care if you come back." He threw his arms up in the air in exasperation, "I don't want to be around you if you're going to act like a little baby about everything. Go home and take a Midol or something."

"This is so not about me being on my period!"

"Then quit acting like it!"

"How the fuck would you know? It's not like you're the world's finest expert on women!"

"And clearly you're not the expert on men!"

"I'm leaving!"

"Then go!"

"I will!" I picked up my purse and stormed towards the door.

"Just walk away then, like you always do! I know you'll regret this!"

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed at him, and slammed the door behind me. I stalked down the hallway, furious at him, at myself, at all the bad hands I'd been dealt in the stupid game called Life.

He poked his head out the door, watching my retreating figure, "Fine, walk away! You know you'll come back to me!"

"Not on your life!" I called, and pushed past a surprised Antoine.

"Miss Harley, where are you…?" Antoine asked.

I interrupted, "Home. He knows I'm going. Don't bother stopping me."

"Um, alright, then." He said awkwardly.

I walked outside and hailed a cab, "Wayne Enterprises, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed, "Hello, Bruce? Are you free? Well, you're about to be. I'm coming down for a visit."


	12. Set the Fire

**A/N: I'm ba-aaack! I'm sorry about the wait. Chapter 13 is currently being written and believe me, it's probably one of the best so far. Be patient pleaseee.**

**A rather good (and I hope sort of surprising?) ending to this chapter. Enjoy. I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 12: Set the Fire

_After we have traveled so far_

_We'd set the fire to the third bar_

_We'd share each other like an island_

_Until exhausted, close our eyelids_

_And dreaming, pick up from_

_The last place we set off_

"_Set the Fire to the Third Bar," Snow Patrol featuring Martha Wainwright _

I had a dream last night. It was like all the others. Maggie had come to me, her face aglow, gaunt and frightened.

_Harley…Harley…_

What? Who is it?

_Who do you think?_

Not again.

_Why haven't you avenged us?_

He said he didn't do this.

_He lied to you._

It's complicated.

_You promised you'd always protect me._

I couldn't predict this.

_Harley, we miss you. Me, Mom, and Dad…_

I miss you, too. Do they forgive me?

_Why wouldn't they?_

I let you guys die.

_You didn't intend it to happen._

I feel so lost.

_I know it's hard._

I feel like everything is crashing down around me.

_The Joker can do that to you._

Yeah, just a bit.

_You will be alright._

I know. It just doesn't seem like that right now.

_What are you going to do about the Joker?_

I'm going to do what I set out to do. Kill him.

_Be careful._

I'm doing it for Mom and Dad.

_What are you going to do to make up for what I've lost?_

Your death wasn't his fault.

_I didn't say it was. _

Then what do you want me to do?

_Find Jordan Anderson. _

Why?

_He killed me._

Then he will die, too.

_He's in prison right now. You need to tell them that he killed me. That you can prove it._

How will I prove it?

_You will get him to confess._

How?

_Harley, you were a psychiatrist. You have your ways._

Ah. Yes.

_I must go now. Our time visiting the living is rather limited._

Wait!

_What?_

Why can't Mom and Dad see me?

_They're at peace._

…

My taxi pulled up at Wayne Enterprises. Reality struck me again. Ok, this psychiatrist is going to need some psychiatric help of her own if she keeps having these dreams and flashbacks. And now I'm talking to myself. Even better.

Bruce was waiting for me at the entrance, looking concerned.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, ushering me inside.

"Yeah, I'm fine physically. He didn't hurt me or anything." I assured him, "It's just that he…had us followed last night."

"Shit," he muttered.

"Yeah, so he knows everything."

"Even the kissing thing?"

"We didn't get that far into the conversation. He's mostly pissed off that I went on a date with you." I explained, "I just wanted to tell you that, in case someone tried to assassinate you or something."

"Well, um, I'm Batman." He laughed.

"Yes, well, I don't think you'd prefer for him to know that." I said, not sharing in his amusement.

His face was serious, "You are right about that."

"What are we going to do, Bruce? I don't even know if someone is watching us right now." I said, glancing around nervously, "He has people everywhere."

"I'd know if they were here." He said quietly, "I'm a good judge of character."

"Then why do you associate with me?" I gave him a half-smile.

"You are not a bad person, Harley. You have just been forced into being one to achieve your goals. I know all about that life." He said bitterly.

He pressed the up button for the elevator in the lobby.

We stepped inside, and he selected the top floor. The elevator made a few whirring sounds, and then shot upward.

"Bruce, the people of Gotham know that they need you. They just can't admit to themselves that the city can't take care of its own shitty problems." I protested, "The police force is corrupt, and the city is run by the god damn mob. You are the only one who can do something about it because you're a surreal persona; someone that they can't touch."

"I suppose that's a good way to put it," he said thoughtfully.

"The Joker has the same status, except that he, well, frankly, is a terrorist. If we can take him down, then Gotham will think of you as a savior again, and I will achieve what I want most. It's basically a win-win situation." I said.

"I know," he looked away, his dark eyes hard.

"Bruce, are you ok? You look upset." I observed.

"I was wondering what my parents would think of me now."

"I wonder the same thing every day." I leaned against his shoulder, "Don't beat yourself up about it. At least you're doing something good."

"And you're not?"

"If you consider killing people and exacting vengeance good…?"

"I almost shot the man who murdered my parents." He admitted, "But someone got to him first."

I was surprised, "When was this?"

"A long time ago…when I was home for break from Princeton…the man who murdered my parents was on trial. I had every intention of gunning him down that day. When he emerged from the courthouse with parole, I reached for my gun…and then…someone else fired. I watched him fall to the ground, and I felt so empty inside. I wanted to make him suffer."

"I don't blame you." I said, finding his hand, clasping it.

"He was right there in front of me. And then he was gone. I needed to do something else with my life other than run my father's empire. There it was, staring at me in the face. I needed to be something more than human. I became what I feared most."

I involuntarily giggled.

"What?"

"You were scared of bats?"

"They're fucking psycho creatures. Who wouldn't be scared of them?" Bruce said defensively.

"I don't know. I just didn't realize that that was the reason for the Batman persona." I shrugged, "It's kind of interesting, actually."

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped out into the hallway. An African-American man with graying hair and a beard looked over at us, "Bruce? Who is this?"

"Lucius Fox, my old friend, Harleen Quinzel. Her father and my father worked at the same hospital." Bruce gestured toward the man, "This is Lucius Fox, my vice president and head of technology at Wayne Enterprises."

"Very pleased to meet you, sir." I smiled, reaching out to shake the man's hand.

"I remember your father." Lucius said, "A good man. I was so sorry to hear of his death, and your mother's too. What a lovely couple they were…you've lost your whole family this year. That is a huge burden to bear."

"Yes, but I will survive." I said, my smile faltering.

"Of course you will," he said. I liked him. He seemed like a wise old gentleman type. It was no wonder Bruce made him the vice president.

As we went into Bruce's office, Bruce explained, "Lucius is also the one who makes all my equipment for my Batman costume. He also made my car."

"Wow," I whistled, impressed.

"I know," he nodded in affirmation, "That's what I said, too."

"So this is your office?" I asked in whispered awe.

The place was well-furnished in shiny oak, with a huge window overlooking all of Gotham and pretty far beyond. (He was on the 31st floor, after all.)

"Yeah, I don't spend much time in here, though." He shrugged, closing the door behind him.

"Why?"

"Eh…I can't find a reason to. I'm in meetings all day, and well…you know my nighttime hobbies." He said with a secretive smile.

I returned the smile, "Yeah, I suppose I do."

"That's kind of awful, isn't it? Sounds like I pick up prostitutes or something." He laughed whole-heartedly.

Somehow, I couldn't find the mirth to share in the laugh, "You're a good guy, Bruce. I don't think anybody can say you're not."

"I wish that were true." He snorted indignantly, "All the tabloids do is try to make me look like a shit-head, with both of my identities!"

We sat down opposite each other. It sort of reminded me of the Joker and me at our daily meetings, looking awkwardly at each other across what seemed like a limitless horizon.

"So…Harley, what did you plan on doing once you got here?" Bruce asked.

I flushed, and said sheepishly, "I'm not really sure. I didn't exactly think that far ahead. I just needed to get out of there, but I couldn't go home, because I figured he would look there first."

"I don't blame you. Do you want to stay at my penthouse tonight?"

When I gave him a wide-eyed stare, he got flustered, "I mean, just in case he decides to drop in on you unexpectedly or something?"

"Well…I suppose I could."

I saw his face crumple with relief, "Really? Alright, I'll give my butler a call and tell him that we will be having a guest tonight."

"You have a butler?"

"Oh yes, you remember Alfred?"

"The older British gentleman?"

"The very same," he replied.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I remember him." I said, nodding vehemently, "God, he's still alive?"

"And kicking," Bruce finished, "Literally, sometimes."

For the first time in a long while, I laughed hard and loud.

"Oh, so my physical abuse is funny to you, Miss Quinzel?" Bruce smirked, amused.

"Only a little bit," I struggled to hold in the rest of my laughter.

"You are really beautiful when you laugh." Bruce said.

The room fell silent.

"Well…thank you." My cheeks burned, "I've never been told that before."

"Really? I think it's a bit obvious. I have always noticed how gorgeous you are, Harley, but there are certain things that bring it out more than others, like when you laughed, for example."

"Thanks, really, Bruce, but I don't need to be showered with compliments." I said uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry." He said sincerely, "I could be a total ass-hole if you want."

"No, no," I chuckled, "It's alright. I'm just not accustomed to men saying nice things about me."

"The Joker, then," he said darkly.

"Yeah, I guess." I said, "He's…well, the only person that has ever seen the worst of me, so he only thinks of me like that. Yet, he sees everything about me, you know? All the good and the bad; I can't totally fault him for pointing out my flaws."

"What flaws?" Bruce teased, "I don't see any of those."

"They're not external." I protested, "I have a lot of issues I still have to work out, ok?"

Bruce's face softened, "I understand completely. I still think about them every day, Harley. I can empathize on the deepest level. I promise."

"I know you can." I said, feeling some consolation in his words.

"Well, it's about 4 o'clock." He said, looking at his watch, "Do you want to grab some dinner and we'll head off to my place?"

"You don't have anything important to do?"

"Nothing that Lucius can't handle," he paged Mr. Fox on the intercom, "Hey Lucius, I must accompany Miss Quinzel home now. Can you close up shop for me?"

"No problem, Mr. Wayne, but I expect some monetary equivalence for my hard work."

"Of course you will be paid most handsomely, Mr. Fox."

The intercom beeped as it shut down.

"Let's go, then, Miss Quinzel." He held out his arm to me.

"Alright…Mr. Wayne," I couldn't help but giggle a little at the formality.

…

After dinner and dessert had concluded, Bruce took me back to his penthouse in the city. At the top of a very exquisite-looking building, he had an amazing picturesque view of the whole surrounding area.

"So why don't you spend a lot of time here?" I asked in awe. It was at least 3 times the size of my own penthouse, and that was saying something.

"It gets pretty lonely." He admitted.

"Oh, and I'm not good company?" an elderly gentleman appeared from out of nowhere.

"Good Lord!" Bruce and I both jumped.

"Alfred, you should announce yourself before enter a room." Bruce said, holding his heart.

"You're home rather early tonight, Mr. Wayne." Alfred observed, "And with a lady friend, I see."

"Well, oh, yes, this is Harleen Quinzel." Bruce said.

"Goodness, little Harley?" Alfred's eyes widened, "It's been years. I remember when you were as tall as my hip, with that wild curly hair and…you had those dreadful braces."

"Yeah, I suppose I was kind of awkward then." I flushed, "And the hair hasn't changed much."

"I see that," he said, amused, "What are you up to these days?"

"I was a psychiatrist at Arkham, and things got complicated," I said vaguely, "Now I sort of have no job. After my parents passed away, they left me a huge inheritance, so I guess I didn't feel the need to work anymore after that."

"Oh yes, I did hear about that. I stopped by the wake, I think, but it was quite crowded." Alfred said, reminiscing, "Your parents were wonderful people."

"I know," I said quietly.

"I don't think she wants to talk about that, Alfred." Bruce said gently.

"Oh, I apologize, Miss Quinzel. Would you two like some wine?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you, Alfred." Bruce answered for the both of us.

After Alfred had meandered away to get our drinks, Bruce led me into the living room. It was a cozy and dark room, with plush furniture and a huge fireplace against the wall.

"It's like every room gets better and better." I gaped.

"You should see the master bedroom." Bruce joked.

I turned to face him quickly, and he colored immediately, "Uh, well, it was sort of…a…joke…I – I didn't mean to sound – oh shit, I'm so terrible – I'm just going to stop talking." He stumbled over his words, and I had to crack a smile at that.

"I'm sorry; your comment just caught me off-guard, that's all." I shook my head, "You're very sweet to apologize, but you don't have to."

"Ok," he looked relieved, "Would you like to sit down?"

"Sure," I replied.

We settled into the couch just as Alfred came in with a tray, which carried a bottle of wine and two glasses, "Here you are, Mr. Wayne, Miss Quinzel."

"Thank you, Alfred," I took the tray from him, and set it on the coffee table in front of us.

"That will be all," Bruce said.

"Of course, Mr. Wayne," Alfred said. I could have sworn I saw a smirk on his face, but maybe it was just a trick of the light or something.

Once Alfred had disappeared, Bruce cracked up with laughter.

"What's so funny?" I was puzzled.

"The last time we had wine, it got a little out of hand."

I giggled, "Yeah, I know."

"Would you still like to have some?" he offered.

"Well, yeah, of course, since it's there." I said nonchalantly.

He poured us both a glass, and we sipped it gingerly.

"This is nice." Bruce said after a few minutes of silence.

"Yeah, it is." I said, wholeheartedly meaning it, "It's so great to just relax and not have to worry about…him…for at least a little while."

"Is he going to get upset with you for staying here tonight?"

"If he finds out, then…um, yeah, I'd have to say that he might threaten my life." I shrugged.

Bruce looked at me with horror.

"No, no!" I said quickly, "He does that on, like, a daily basis."

"Well, that's not exactly comforting." Bruce said.

"I've grown accustomed to it."

"That's sort of pathetic."

"I know."

"Is he really as horrible as he seems?" Bruce asked.

"Not exactly," I said honestly, "He has a human side, as hard as that is to believe. He definitely doesn't show it to just anyone. For some reason, he seems to trust me with his feelings. He seems to hate everyone but me. I don't really know why, Bruce. I have run away from him like 3 times now, and tried to kill him a couple times. He still keeps me around. I don't know how he can't hate me by now."

"Do you hate him?"

"That's extremely complicated." I said hesitantly, "A part of me hates him with a passion and the other part tolerates him, almost sort of cares for him. I don't know why or how that happens, but I can't seem to let go of that tolerance yet. I was so fully prepared to kill him that day I saw him again, but I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"I understand," Bruce said thoughtfully, "Maybe you feel like you can change him."

"Oh, no, I know I can't do that." I scoffed.

"You alone have gotten him to care about someone." Bruce pointed out, "For some reason, he is drawn to you. And that is why we must stick together, Harley. Together we can bring him down. I know it's taking a little longer than we expected, but we can accomplish what we have to once you have gained back his trust."

"The problem is; the very thing that's holding us back is the fact that you and I are moving forward." I frowned.

"You're right," Bruce said softly, "But I really like you, Harley."

"I really like you, too, Bruce. I can't say that this is a normal relationship by any means, but I really care about you. This is the first time I've ever felt…I don't know, so…comfortable with someone, like it just feels so right to be here with you."

"Me, too," He leaned forward and kissed me deeply on the mouth.

I easily moved into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his chest, wishing the moment would never end.

Suddenly he pulled away, "Oh shit, I'm doing it again."

"Doing what?" I asked breathlessly.

"Compromising our partnership," he replied.

"It's alright. This is what I want…unless it's not what you want."

"No, it's definitely what I want." He said firmly, "I just don't want to put you in a bad position by doing this."

"This is my decision, too." I protested, "Bruce, you and I can make this work. As long as this is not going to get in the way of our goal, then it is fine by me."

"Alright," he looked like he felt a million times better, "Now, where were we?"…


	13. Sometimes Goodbye's the Only Way

**A/N: I enjoyed writing this chapter. The song in italics is "You are the Moon" by the Hush Sound. **

**Cliffhanger ending. Sorry. Haha. **

**I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters yadda yadda yadda. **

Chapter 13: Sometimes Goodbye's the Only Way

_I close both locks below the window_

_I close both blinds and turn away_

_Sometimes solutions aren't so simple_

_Sometimes goodbye's the only way_

_And the sun will set for you; the sun will set for you_

_The shadow of the day will embrace the world in gray_

_And the sun will set for you._

"_Shadow of the Day," Linkin Park _

As I lay in bed that night next to a naked Bruce, who slept soundly beside me, I dwelled on what Alfred had said about my parent's funeral. I never forgot that day. I probably never would. I didn't remember him being there…then again, it was all such a blur…

**3 MONTHS EARLIER…**

The funeral had been the hardest day of my life. Ironically enough, it had been the most beautiful of the whole month. The sun shone down on the funeral procession, and a calm southern wind wavered through my hair.

_Shadows all around you as you surface from the dark_

_Emerging from the gentle grip of night's unfolding arms_

_Darkness, darkness everywhere, do you feel all alone?_

Everyone entered the church to pay their respects to my parents. I stood at the front, alone and trying to hold back hysterical tears, as people knelt by their caskets.

What the worst part of this whole scenario was the fact that Maggie wasn't here to face this with me. We had buried her not yet a year ago. Thinking back to that day, how could I have ever suspected that I would be feeling the same way again? Feeling lost and completely empty, knowing that I would never see the people that I loved the most ever again.

No longer would my mother stroke my hair when I cried, or would my father and I share a secret laugh at my mother's expense, and no longer would Maggie and I stay up till the early hours of the morning sharing stories. I would never be able to see their faces or hear their voices, never be able to embrace them, shout hello, laugh, and smile with them.

It was almost too much to bear.

_The subtle grace of gravity, the heavy weight of stone…_

An older man stepped up to talk to me. He had hair graying at the temples and had on a very expensive-looking suit.

"Harley, you remember me? Ed Forster?" he asked.

"Oh my God, Mr. Forster!" I exclaimed, embracing him, "I haven't seen you in years!"

Edward Forster had been my mother's legal partner for many years. They had separated practices about 4 years ago because his son, who was a few years younger than me, had just graduated law school and they had wanted to open up a practice together. He had always been very cordial and generous to Maggie and me, sending out lavish gifts for our birthdays every year without fail.

"I know, it's been way too long." He affirmed, "I guess I should say that I would have liked to have seen you in a different setting."

"Yeah, same here," I immediately faltered.

"I can't imagine the grief you're feeling." He grabbed my hand, "I just want to know that I cared for your mother so much. She had always been my most loyal and dearest friend. If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to give me a call."

"Thank you so much." I said, meaning it.

"I hate to bring it up, but your mother did leave me in charge of their wills." He said, slightly awkward, "I would like to do the reading as soon as possible. Tuesday, if you can."

"Of course," I said, "Any time you need, I will be there."

"Great," he said, but unenthusiastically, "I will see you soon, then. My very deepest condolences to you, Harley."

"Thanks," I said again.

_You don't see what you possess, a beauty calm and clear_

_It floods the sky and blurs the darkness like a chandelier_

The funeral service was short and sweet, like I planned it to be. I had requested my parents' caskets closed, because they had severe third degree burns all over their bodies, and it would have been too shocking for anyone (especially me) to see.

Our priest at our Greek Orthodox Church, St. Alexander's, presided over the service, speaking very fondly and emotionally about my parents. I tried to drown his words out with my own thoughts, because I just couldn't listen to anyone remind me of how truly wonderful my parents had been. It was just…it was just really hard to hear.

After the service was finished, the pall-bearers loaded the caskets into separate hearses, and our immediately family and friends followed to the cemetery.

_All the light that you possess is skewed by lakes and seas_

_The shattered surface, so imperfect, is all that you believe_

This was the hardest part of my entire day. They were buried next to my sister. I had to turn away from the sight for a moment, scarcely able to breathe. I looked up at the sky, the bright sun shining so happily on the scene, was beating down on my face, reminding me how the world went on as my life felt like it was going to end.

The people left, some teary-eyed and some just somber, on the way to the funeral luncheon. I stayed behind, staring at their graves, not able to believe what was happening to me at this moment.

I turned, and I saw the tree where the Joker had once stood, telling me that he loved me. It was a place I was sure I wouldn't have to return to anytime soon, but of course, fate has a funny way of intervening at the most inopportune times in our lives.

I broke down then, for the first time since they had died. I fell to the ground, crying harder than I had ever cried in my entire life.

I swore I saw him again, staring at my sobbing form, but it was probably just my imagination. To this day, I have never been sure if he was there or not. However, at that particular moment in time, I just didn't care. I didn't care about anything at all.

_I will bring a mirror, so silver, so exact_

_So precise and so pristine, a perfect pane of glass_

I don't know how long I sat there and cried. It may have been hours, minutes…I don't know. I just didn't want to think about anything. I just wanted to forget that I was completely alone now. I didn't have John, I didn't have Maggie…and now I didn't have Mom and Dad.

They were completely unreachable now, lost under six feet of dirt.

I stood up shakily, wondering vaguely if anyone had noticed that I was gone yet.

I suppose not. Those people were all fakes. Maybe they came because they cared, but I doubted it. I was the only one who had really lost something today. No one even understood how horrible this feeling inside me was, and no one would ever understand. They could never pretend that they knew the devastating loss I had been dealt.

What was I going to do now?

I couldn't even answer my own question.

_I will set the mirror to face the blackened sky_

_You will see your beauty every moment that you rise…_

…

The sunlight streamed in through the big, open windows of Bruce's penthouse. I smiled over at his sleeping form, trying to remember the last time it had felt this right to wake up beside someone. And…well, honestly, I couldn't.

He stirred, and asked groggily, "What time is it?"

"I think it's like 6:30."

"AM?"

"Yeah," I laughed.

He made some incomprehensible noise and pulled the covers over his head, "5 more minutes."

"Don't you have to go to work?"

"I don't feel like it."

"Yes, that is such a multimillionaire's attitude." I drawled.

"Come here," he pulled me close to him, "Did you sleep at all last night? I heard you tossing and turning."

"No, not really," I admitted, "I don't sleep much anymore."

"Why not?"

"I was thinking about my parents' funeral."

"Um…and why were you thinking about that?" he opened his eyes for the first time.

"I don't know. I can't really forget that day. It's sort of burned in my brain." I said.

"Yeah, I never really forgot my parents' funeral, either." Bruce said, stroking my hair, "Even though I was so much younger, it still hurt just as much."

"I'm sorry," I sighed, "I guess I shouldn't keep complaining. I know I sound like a broken record. You'd think being a psychologist would make me aware of my own feelings and emotions, and why I feel them."

"No one is perfect," Bruce said consolingly, "Especially people who try to make other people perfect, like you."

"In a twisted way, that makes sense." I mused.

"Thanks," he drawled.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way!" I protested.

"I was just giving you a hard time." He laughed, "Lighten up, Princess."

"What?" I sat up, blood running cold.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking puzzled.

"What did you just call me?"

"Princess…?" he propped himself up, "Are you alright? You've gone totally white."

"That's what…he…calls me." I shook a little, and it was nowhere near cold in that room.

"Oh God, Harley, I'm sorry!" he said, pulling me into an embrace, "I'll never call you that again. That was my mistake."

"No, it's not your fault. You didn't know. I over-reacted." I took a shuddering breath, and relaxed into his arms, "I just don't like to be reminded of his existence."

"Soon you won't have to," he said, smiling.

"I'll never forget what he did to me, Bruce." I said quietly, "Will you ever forget the man who murdered your parents?"

"I see your point."

"We will exterminate him like the rodent he is." I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles were starting to turn white, "I will see to it that he is dead, and if I have to go down with him, I'm prepared to do that."

"Harley!" Bruce looked alarmed, "Don't talk like that!"

"I have to be prepared for anything to happen." I said, "Don't try to talk me out of doing something stupid."

"I will do my best." Bruce relented, "I don't want to see you take punishment for something he did. That's why I rescued you that night over a year ago, Harley. I knew you weren't a bad person and that he had sucked you into his game. I was right. And right now, I have gotten to know you and I don't want you to leave me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…I don't know…what I guess I'm saying is that…I might love you."

"Bruce…" I was surprised, definitely, but not upset by that proclamation.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to make things awkward. Forget I said anything." He shook his head vehemently, "I just don't want something to go bad between us and then our partnership will go to shit."

"That's not what I'm worried about at all." I said.

"You're worried about him."

"Well, you're just the cleverest man I know, Bruce." I rolled my eyes.

"I will hit you with this pillow." Bruce threatened, holding the feathery demon up to eye level.

"You would not."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Take from my statement what you will, Mr. Wayne." I said with all the graveness I could muster without bursting into laughter.

"You asked for it." And then the pillow smacked me dead in the face.

"You ass-hole! I didn't think you'd actually do it!" I was winded by the blow.

"Are you alright?" he put the pillow down, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I think so…" I said weakly, and then picked up my own pillow and gave him a solid whack to the shoulder, knocking him down.

"Damn, you're strong for a woman!" he exclaimed.

"I know," I said proudly, "But seriously, what are we going to do if the Joker finds out about our little romance?"

"I take it he won't be too happy."

"Um, no, it's more like he will put out a warrant on your life."

"Well, that seems rather serious." Bruce admitted.

"No shit," I agreed, "That's why neither of us will talk about it."

"A secret affair…I like it." Bruce grinned.

"Well, I don't." I folded my arms across my chest, "I will be glad once he's dead and we don't have to hide from him anymore."

"Will you really be able to kill him, Harley, once the time arrives?" Bruce held my hands, looking down at my twitching fingers.

"I don't know yet." I said. I was being honest.

"Do you want me to do it?" he asked.

"Only if I ask you to," I replied.

"Alright," he nodded, "Well, I'd better get you home. You have to see him soon, right?"

"Don't remind me," I groaned.

…

Around 7:30 in the morning, Bruce's town-car dropped me off at the entrance to my building. He gave me a quick kiss before I exited the car, and called out the window, "I will call you later!"

"Ok, bye!" I said quickly. He and I had decided to resist calling his name for the fear of someone hearing it; meaning someone who was in the Joker's employ watching me.

Once I got up to my penthouse, I hastily packed my costume into a duffel bag, along with boots and my gun. Ok, don't judge me. I never know when I might need it.

I grabbed a granola bar, and rushed out the door to hail a taxi.

…

I got to the warehouse a few minutes before 8 AM, and saw Antoine with his arms folded menacingly across his chest, watching me intently.

"I thought you were going to be late." He said in his deep, gravelly voice.

"Well, I'm not." I snapped.

"The boss is pissed at you." He pointed out.

"I figured he would be." I pushed past him.

"I wouldn't tread him too lightly today, Miss Harley."

"Fuck off, Antoine." I called behind my shoulder as I strode down the hallway.

I heard him indistinctly mutter something sounding like 'bitch'.

I reached the Joker's door and stared at it for a moment. I took a deep breath, exhaled, trying to rehearse an inner monologue about last night. Finally, I realized I was totally psyching myself out and decided to just knock on the door.

"Enter," I heard him say.

I slowly turned the knob, and opened the door.


	14. The Best Liar

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I just moved into school on Saturday so I've been busy acclimating myself back to college life. **

**I enjoyed this chapter, it has some good twists and turns. Please keep reviewing, I always appreciate what you have to say! (smiley face)**

**I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 14: The Best Liar

_Oh, and the award for the best liar goes to you_

_For making me believe that you could be faithful to me_

_Let's hear your speech now_

_How about a round of applause? A standing ovation?_

"_Take a Bow," Rihanna _

"Morning, bitch," he said immediately as he saw me.

I was already irritated and it had been less than 5 seconds in his presence, "Good morning to you, too, Mister J."

"Would you like to explain why you left me so suddenly yesterday and didn't decide to return?" he wasn't wearing his make-up yet today. His eyes looked bloodshot and weary, like he hadn't slept all night. His hair looked dirtier and stringier than usual, and his clothes hung on him limply. Basically, he looked like hell.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

"Not important," he said dismissively, "I'm asking what happened to you."

"I went home."

"No, you didn't. You went to Brucey's." he sneered, "I know you did. One of my informants saw you go into his office building."

"Fine, I did. I couldn't go home because I thought you'd have me followed." I admitted.

"So, what happened then? Did he fuck you? Did he make you fucking happy?" he stood up, fists shaking with rage, "No, wait; don't even tell me what he did! I don't want to fucking know any of it! I think I might vomit."

"Oh boo fucking hoo, ass-hole!" I stepped closer to him, "You can just imagine what Bruce and I did because you'll never know! HA!"

He shoved me, "Tell me!"

I shoved him back, "Don't you fucking touch me!"

He grabbed my shoulders tightly, "Do you even know what I've been through the last day and a half? I didn't sleep all night, Harley, because I worrying about you!"

"Let go of me!" I struggled to break free of his grasp.

His eyes were wild, "Harley, look at me!"

"No! Get away from me!" I cried, tears stinging at the edge of my eyes.

"Harley, why do you make me hurt like this?" His hand grasped my chin, and I recoiled, "Look at me, HARLEY."

I finally obeyed, seeing as I had no other choice, "What? What do you want to tell me?"

"I walked all over this fucking city looking for you. I had a group of my informants at all positions. I know you didn't go home. So where did you go? I racked my god damn brain all night, trying to figure out where to go. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, all I could fucking think about was finding you so I could either kiss you or kill you. I hadn't decided which to do at the time." His eyes were sad, "How could you betray me like this?"

"What makes you think I betrayed you?" I asked indignantly, "And on that note, it's not like I belong to you."

"Well, Harley, I'd like to think that you do. I don't like seeing you with other men; I don't know how many fucking times I need to repeat myself."

"You are not my protector! You are nothing to me; don't you get it? I've fucking had it with your jealous attitude! I don't want to hear any more of it! I don't want it! I don't want your protection and I sure as shit don't want your love!" I pushed him hard and finally broke free. I sprinted for the door, but he got to me with an ungodly speed.

He stood in front of the door, "You're not leaving."

"Who the fucking hell are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?"

"Oh, I don't think you understand the gravity of this situation." The Joker then pulled out a gun.

I heard myself intake my breath sharply; the room seemed to close in around us…and all I could stare at was that gun in his leather-gloved hand.

His voice seemed far away as it said, "Tell me – right now – what happened between you and Bruce Wayne. If I suspect you're lying, I will kill you right here."

"No, you wouldn't." I didn't expect any courage to come from me at all. I was rooted to the spot, eyes still focused on the gun pointing at my chest.

…

I thought of that fatal day, the day of my would-be wedding…I remember how I felt in that moment, seeing the same rusted gun pointing at John, the bullet shooting in slow-motion toward him. I remember how I could barely hold back my scream as it passed through him, his body falling to the ground. I couldn't even think at that moment. I had been so foolish to think that the Joker would not take his revenge on me for leaving him.

I remember seeing the ambulance cart out all of the bodies, charred and disfigured, from the church. I was still sitting in my wedding dress, too tired and numb to move. A nurse tried to get me up from where I had been, telling me, 'Oh, honey, you've gotten your dress dirty.' Oh God, like that was the most important thing at the moment. I wanted to scream at her, ask her how she would feel if she had lost her parents and the love of her life in one fell swoop and if she could pretend to be ok, but I just didn't have the energy to do it.

I let them pull me up and bring me to the ambulance, checking me for any injuries. I had a few cuts and bruises from the glass, but otherwise I was alright. They spoke about me as if I wasn't there, saying, 'Poor thing…she seems too distraught to speak…' I blocked out everything. All I could do was play the scene back in my head what had just transpired and try to make sense of it.

And you know what? I never could.

…

"Harley?" the Joker repeated, more impatiently this time, "Get your head out of dream-land and talk to me!"

"I will tell you the truth." I said quietly.

"Ok, then what is it?" his hand gripped the gun a little tighter in preparation.

"Yes, I went to Wayne Enterprises. I was there for a grand total of like an hour and a half, ok?"

"I know that. What I need to know was what happened after you left the building."

"I'm getting to that part. Bruce took me back to his house, and we had some dinner, drank some wine, and talked."

His hand was trembling, knuckles turning white.

"And then Bruce and I kissed." I said, "We kissed and we went to his room and we made love. You wanted to know. And now you do, so you might as well just kill me. I have nothing else left."

I closed my eyes, and waited for the shot.

It didn't come.

I opened one eye, and saw him on his knees, gun on the floor.

"Mister J…" I said softly, sinking to his level.

"Don't say anything." He snapped.

I immediately shut up.

"You and Wayne…" I could tell he was trying to work it out in his head, "You two fucked."

"Yes," I affirmed.

"So you lied to me, then."

"I never lied. You never gave me a chance to explain myself. You said you didn't want to know." I protested.

"SHUT UP!" he roared, knocking me backwards, "You know how much I care about you, Harley! I love you! You do this to me and expect me to just stand by?! Now I fucking understand what it's like to be betrayed in the worst way possible! I could very well kill you right now!"

"Then do it. I'm not stopping you." I said.

"Oh no, no, no, Miss Harley Quinn, that would be just too damn easy. I'm going to have to get Brucey involved with this." He said, slowly standing up.

"No…" I whispered.

"Oh, yes," he grinned for the first time today, a truly terrifying, wicked grin that suggested murder on his brain.

"You can't." I said, a little braver now.

He stooped down to face me, only a few inches from me, "Watch me."

I was struck with horror, "He's innocent, please…he doesn't know anything about us."

"Bullshit he doesn't," he snarled, "You're a fucking little gossip. I'm sure you've told him everything, about how I killed your precious parents and how I influenced Jordan to kill your sister…"

"What?"

"Oh, fuck," his eyes flashed a hint of fear, "That came out…really wrong."

"You said you didn't kill my sister." I got my strength back, standing up, eyes narrowed.

"Not exactly," he said, "As I said, Jordan was in the cell next to me. When he told me that you had been staying with Maggie, I was furious. I decided to get my revenge. I told Jordan that I would pay him 10,000 bucks if he would off your sister."

"His own girlfriend? Why would he do that?" I scoffed, "You're lying!"

"I'm not!" he exclaimed, "I swear on my life that I'm not. Jordan and your sister were drug dealers."

"They were…wait…what?! I would know if my sister was a fucking drug dealer!" I sputtered.

"It's not the drugs you would think." He shrugged, "It was like prescription pills, like morphine, codeine, that kind of shit. They may have dabbled in Ritalin and stuff like that, too, but I'm not sure. How the hell do you think your sister got into Cornell and made it into the med program?"

"She was no idiot." I bit my lip, but it was starting to make some sense, "Why would she need the money, though? My parents were paying her way through school."

"Well, from what Jordan blabbed about him and your sister, the two of them had a pretty lucrative business, and with that came more knowledge. The school threatened to kick the both of them out, and your sister and Jordan had been paying them off for months."

"He went there, too?" I didn't know anything about this mystery man. I made a mental note that if I survived this, I would have to pay him a little visit.

"Yeah, he was an economics or business or some shit like that, whatever. He said that they got a lot of the prescription pills from your father."

"My father? But he…he didn't know, did he?" I was starting to lose my firm belief that Maggie was as good as she seemed.

"I think he knew but he was too afraid to tell her otherwise. Jordan is no pencil-thin man, and he had some very powerful friends. I think your father just let them keep doing it because he was afraid of losing his practice."

"How do you know all of this?" my jaw was dropping lower and lower every sentence that came out of his mouth.

"Jordan told me," he said simply.

"Is this Jordan still in prison?"

"Yeah…why?"

"I think I'd like to speak to him myself."

"Go for it." He shrugged, "Not my problem."

"So, you're going to let me…live?" I asked slowly.

"For the time being," he replied, "I'd like to see what happens with you and this Jordan character."

"Great, thanks," I said sarcastically, "So, you expect me to be on a string until you decide to act on the knowledge you found out?"

"Yes, that is pretty much exactly what I plan to do."

"You're a bastard." I sighed.

"I know."

"Don't act like we're back to normal." I said warningly.

"I'm not," he said, "I don't trust you at all, Harley. I never have and never will. I am choosing to be somewhat forgiving in this moment because I care about you, and I could never kill you myself. It would break my heart to do it."

"What are you going to do to Bruce?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," he winked.

I was getting the sinking feeling that this was far from over.


	15. What You've Done

**A/N: I REALLY LIKED THIS CHAPTER THE END.**

**Harley finds out too much that she wasn't sure she wanted to know. I love revelations.**

**Enjoy. R&R, please keep reading! I don't own DC COMICS characters. There's some stupid thing called copyright.**

Chapter 15: What You've Done

_Now you'll never see_

_What you've done to me_

_You can take back your memories_

_They're no good to me_

_Now here's to all your lies_

_You can't look me in the eyes_

_With the sad, sad face that you wear so well_

"_Gives You Hell," The All-American Rejects_

As I walked into Gotham County Prison, I did my best to look confident. The last time I had been there, I had freed the Joker, and I wasn't sure anybody at the prison knew me by face. I suppose the general public had only seen me in a mask and form-fitting costume, so I purposely dressed in a dark pea-coat and jeans for the occasion.

I stood in the lobby for a moment, wondering what exactly I should do. I had been on edge since yesterday, jittery and nervous, feeling like someone was watching me every move I made…which was…ok, not exactly paranoid of me because someone was watching my every move.

"Ma'am?" the police officer at the front desk asked, "Do you need some help?"

I put on a smile and approached him, "Yes, I am looking for a Jordan Smith. Can you lead me to his cell?"

"What business do you have with him?" the police officer scrutinized me.

"Um…well, he has some history I need him to cover." I said.

"What is your name, ma'am?"

"Why?" I said quickly, definitely too quickly.

He raised an eyebrow, "We need it so that we can keep a record of who comes in and out of here."

"Oh," I said simply, "My name is Harleen Quinzel."

"I know you." He said.

"How?" My blood ran cold.

"I was a security guard at Arkham while you were an intern. Do you remember me? Dave Hudson?" He explained, "I heard you left. Why?"

"Well, I had deaths in the family." I said vaguely.

"I did hear about that. I'm so sorry for your loss." Dave seemed to relax a little more.

"Thank you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm stalling you. I will lead you to Mr. Smith's cell." He grabbed a set of keys from behind the front desk, and gestured for me to follow him.

I remembered the familiar labyrinthine hallways of the prison, remembering my last feelings like déjà vu. I began to feel a little anxious when Dave stopped somewhat abruptly in front of me, causing me to almost run into him.

"Here it is, Miss Quinzel," he said, "There will be an officer around the corner if you need any further assistance. You have a nice day now."

"You, too," I said, and walked up to the cell. I peered through the bars, and saw a young-faced man sitting on the bench, "Good morning."

"What do you want, lady?" Jordan snapped.

I didn't like this guy already, "I'm here to ask you a few questions."

"Who are you?"

"Harleen Quinzel," I replied.

His eyes widened, and I saw his hands grip the bench tighter, "Wait…you're…"

"Maggie's sister, yes," I said firmly, "I suggest you change your tone, you fucking douche bag."

"Why are you here?" he actually looked sort of frightened, like I was going to beat him down or something. Oh, like I could pry apart steel bars.

He wasn't a bad-looking guy, not at all. He had a frat boy look about him, the cropped blonde hair and tanned, muscular torso. I could see why my sister dated him. She had always had a thing for the hot, dumb as a brick types.

"I want an explanation." I said, "Don't lie to me, and don't leave anything out. I will know if you're lying to me. I was a criminal psychologist for 5 years."

"I am not a criminal." He protested, standing up.

"I think selling drugs and murdering my sister puts you under that classification."

"Look, I really liked your sister, I swear." He wiped some sweat from his forehead, "I have a lot of anger problems, Harleen –"

"That's Dr. Quinzel to you."

"Dr. Quinzel, I have a lot of issues with my rage. They have a therapist working with me…I feel so terrible for what I did to your sister."

"Then why did you do it?" I looked down, and my fists were shaking uncontrollably, "Why would you take her life?"

"I…I…I don't know…" he looked away from me, "I will have to start at the beginning."

"I'm listening." I said shortly.

His eyes still glued to the ground, he spoke, "I met your sister in a biology lecture. I sat next to her on the first day of class sophomore year, and we got to talking. We found out we had a lot in common, so I asked her on a date. I also really needed help with biology, because for my frat, I had to maintain a good GPA and I felt like I was totally going to fail out of biology, and Maggie helped me through all my tough times. She helped me through my parents' divorce our senior year and everything."

"So, all that aside," I resisted the urge to feel sorry for the guy, "When and why did the two of you start dealing drugs?"

"After my parents' divorce, I had no money, totally not enough to stay enrolled at Cornell. I was getting my Masters in business there, and she was staying for her med school – which I'm sure you know all about, of course – and we brainstormed so many ideas. A job wouldn't be enough, so she said that we could get some from your father. She said he trusted her with his life, so he would never notice. At first, I was like, totally against it, but she insisted on going through with it, selling prescription drugs and shit."

He looked over at me, and I gestured for him to continue.

"So, we snuck into your father's pharmacy reserve and took some Ritalin, sleeping pills, and shit like that, anything to help our classmates who were interested in the product. We made almost 20 grand in just 2 months." His eyes glowed a little, reminiscing, "It was more than enough to afford my classes and tuition. I told Maggie that whatever I didn't use, I would give back to her. She didn't want any of it, because well, your parents were…yeah. I took out a loan just to be safe, but paid for almost everything up front. No one spoke of our little business except me and Maggie."

"Well, how did you expect anyone to keep quiet about it?" I asked.

"You were in college once, Dr. Quinzel. If you were caught with any of those drugs in your system, you'd be fucking kicked out, you know? No one wanted to risk giving away who we were because they kept on buying the supply."

"Wasn't my father suspicious?"

"Of course he was. Your pops was no idiot."

"You're right. He wasn't." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Anyway…" he looked uncomfortable, "I think he talked to her about it, explained the gravity of the situation, shit, everything, trying to make her feel bad."

"Well, he is her father." I folded my arms across my chest, "And it is his responsibility as a doctor to make sure people who legitimately need that medication are getting it, not stupid college students trying to kill themselves."

"Oh, please, don't play the self-righteous older sister card," he scoffed, "You can't tell me you didn't consider doing any of that in college."

"I didn't, actually. I wanted to earn my grades the way a normal person does." I leaned in closer, "Tell me the rest before I reach through those bars and strangle you."

"Ok, ok," he held up his hands, backing up slightly, "She told him we weren't doing anything and that she thought one of his interns was stealing the meds. He believed her and got the intern kicked out of his program."

"That's fucking awful. You ruined someone's future for your own selfish gains."

"You think I don't feel bad?" his eyes flashed with anger, "Maggie and I were in too deep to stop what we were doing. Then, things went downhill."

"What happened?"

"I'm getting to that. I showed up for one of my exams, and the teacher thought I looked too anxious, too fidgety, so he sent me outside the room. Of course, I was tweaking out and he walked out, asked one of the other teachers to get a police officer. Now I'm really fucking sweating bullets here, and once the cop came back with a breathalyzer, I knew I was fucked." He shook his head, "I was too cocky. The cop took me into custody and made me confess everything."

"Why didn't Maggie get arrested?"

"I said she had nothing to do with it, that I used her to get the drugs. They went through a trial. I got kicked out of Cornell with a couple months sentence and Maggie got off with a warning and a fine for being an accomplice." He explained.

"Then one day, this fucking Joker guy comes into the cell next to me, and we get to talking. He said that Maggie's name sounded familiar, he had a friend who knew her. He said that Maggie had been talking shit behind my back, saying how she hoped I stayed in the slammer, what an idiot I was…as I said, I have anger issues. I was already holding in a lot of rage at the time, and every day it got to me more and more, and I couldn't think of anything but that bitch –"

He saw the venomous look that passed through my features, and said quickly, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Maggie…and when they let me out, I went to her apartment. We got in an argument, and I hit her really hard. I kept hitting her. I couldn't stop myself." His eyes were beginning to tear up, "When I looked down at her, she wasn't breathing. I panicked. I listened to her heartbeat. She was gone. I broke her neck."

I bit my lip to keep myself from crying, hearing exactly what had befallen my dear sister. We had only seen the body, all mangled up and broken. This was more than I ever wanted to know, more than I was ever ready to know.

"And then what happened?" I asked quietly.

"I turned myself in. There was nothing else I could do." He said, sighing, "Now I'm facing lifetime with a chance of parole in like 25 years. I'd rather just live my life out here. I deserve it."

"Yes, you do." I said, and he jerked his head up.

"Have some compassion."

"Ha!" I couldn't hold back anymore, "Compassion? You'll never get that from me. I've been through hell and back several times, you ass-hole! My sister was murdered and my parents and the man I loved, too! I came here to hear your side of the story and now I know what a horrible and truly sick person you are! After all that she did for you, after she helped me through the hardest times of your life, you fucking kill her?! In my eyes, you're as good as fucking dead!"

"Calm down, lady!" his eyes were wide with fear.

"You're fucking lucky you're in that cell right now because I would be giving you exactly what you deserve! If I ever hear that you're out of prison, I will hunt you down like the rat that you are and do the worst things I can possibly do to you! I have some very powerful friends that can arrange that! I know a few fucking psychos myself and if you put one toe out of line, I will have them here in less time than your heart can beat! Do you hear me, you sick son of a bitch?" I screamed, "I will fucking kill you myself after all that you've put me and my family through!"

A guard came running around the corner; it was Dave again, "What's going on here?"

"This crazy bitch is screaming at me!" Jordan exclaimed.

"Ma'am, please," Dave pulled on my arm.

I struggled, "No, let me go!"

"Ma'am, you're getting hysterical. Let me get you away from here."

"This man killed my sister! DON'T YOU GET IT?!" Tears were streaming down my face, "I hope you never have to understand what I went through!"

Dave exhaled deeply, "Please come with me."

I finally faltered, weak, "Alright, fine, just get me away from him."

As he led me back to the main lobby of the prison, I collapsed on a chair, my face in my hands, sobbing as hard as I could.

"Ma'am…if there's anything I can do…" Dave said, sitting down next to me.

"There's nothing you can do." I sniffled, "My sister has been gone almost a year now, and it still hurts. I have just learned the real truth about what happened to her. I just need some time with my thoughts, because…everything I thought, everything I knew before this was a lie. Do you know how completely horrible and depressing that is?"

"I suppose I do." He said softly, "My mother was murdered when I was a little kid. Nobody ever knew what happened to her, either. Then, finally, when I was 16, my father told me that my mom just killed herself, that it was her own fault and no one else's."

"I'm so sorry…that's…awful." I said, for lack of anything more comforting or eloquent to say.

"It was a shock at first, but you know, you just got to move on after you've been blind-sided. You need to find meaning in it; I guess, find a reason and find a way to come back from it. It sucks for a while, but there's nothing you can do but take it with a grain of salt and just tell it 'fuck off.' You know?"

"That's true, thank you." I said, wiping my eyes, "You're a nice man. I hope there are more people like you protecting our streets."

"Unfortunately, there aren't enough, ma'am. That's why crime has taken over this city and we have to depend on a man dressed as a bat to instill any fear into these criminals."

"Batman is a good man," I said defensively, immediately thinking of Bruce.

Oh my God, Bruce! I hadn't talked to him in over a day…he was probably worried sick about me. I made a mental note to call him once I was back at my penthouse.

"Oh no, you've got me all wrong, ma'am, I think Batman is an honorable, decent guy who wants to help. I think there should be more people willing to fight for this city, but ever since Harvey Dent got murdered, it's been pretty hopeless." Dave said, rubbing his temples.

"You're right about that." I said, "I hope they find out who did it, and soon."

"Me, too, but so far, no real leads; they said the only people who were with him at the time were Commissioner Gordon, his wife and kids, and Batman. And, as for me, I hardly think that Commissioner Gordon would kill Dent, and Batman…they seem to think he did it, but there is no real way to prove it."

"Hmm," I considered asking Bruce later.

"Well, I have to get back to my duties, Dr. Quinzel, but you have a good day, alright? If you ever have any problems, please don't hesitate to give me a call, alright?" Dave said, standing up.

"Thank you," I said, shaking his hand, "It was good seeing you again."

I exited the prison, feeling somewhat better, but not much. I needed to see Bruce.

I pulled out my cell and dialed, "Hello? It's Harley."

"Oh my God, Harley, where have you been? I've called like 4 times! I was considering sending out search and rescue!"

"It's a long story. Can I come over later?"

"Absolutely; is like 8 o'clock tonight alright? I've got a meeting at 6, but I will be right over after that." He said, sounding a little harried; after all, it was like 5 in the afternoon.

"I'll be there." I said, "Good-bye…bye."

I had almost forgotten that I couldn't say his name, so then I guess I sounded stupid, repeating myself like that. I glanced around me, but no one seemed to be watching me more than they should. I guess I just couldn't be too careful these days.


	16. Just a Matter of Time

**A/N: I seriously got chills writing this chapter. It was probably without a doubt the best chapter in this story, or at least I think so. **

**Enjoy, R&R, and I don't own DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 16: Just a Matter of Time

_Are we growing up, or just going down?_

_It's just a matter of time till we're all found out_

_Take our tears, put 'em on ice_

'_Cause I'd burn this city down just to show you the lights._

"_Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year," Fall Out Boy_

I waited in my apartment nervously, pacing, waiting for Bruce. I glanced at the wall clock. It was 10 minutes after 8. Maybe he just ran into some traffic…but I had been on edge for Bruce's safety since the Joker found out about our relationship. I was just relieved that he had at least picked up his cell a few hours earlier.

I heard the intercom buzz, and ran to press the talk button, "Hello?"

"It's me." It was Bruce's voice.

I felt a surge of relief, and said, "Ok, I'll buzz you in."

In a moment or two, there was a knock at my door, and I opened it to reveal Bruce, still in his nice Armani suit from work. Damn, I date that.

Anyway…I stepped aside to allow him in, and closed the door behind him.

He put his briefcase down, and immediately pulled me into an embrace, "Oh, Harley, I was so worried about you."

"Me, too," I said breathlessly as he kissed me.

"Ok, wait, I know why I was worried about you, but why were you worried about me?" He looked puzzled.

I bit my lip, "He knows."

Bruce sighed, sitting down on the couch, "How did he find out?"

I perched next to him, "I had to tell him. He had me at gunpoint."

"HE WHAT?!" Bruce exclaimed, jumping up.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I waved my arms vehemently, "See? No scratches or anything! Sit down, please, let me finish!"

"Alright," he said weakly, sinking back onto the couch, "What happened?"

"He said that he saw us together, going into Wayne Enterprises. He didn't know what happened after we left the building and got in your town-car. I refused to tell him, so he pulled on a gun on me and made me spill it. I didn't want to die, Bruce. I was so conflicted, because I knew that telling him would endanger the both of us, and I knew we shouldn't have gotten involved…goddamn it, Bruce, I'm so fucking scared…" I didn't notice that I had begun to cry, "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Harley, it's alright. I was just scared that he hurt you." He wiped a tear from my cheek, "I'm just happy that you're not hurt. I will kill him. I swear it. I hope he comes to me, and soon, because I'll fucking beat him down."

"Don't wish that, please." I shook my head, "I don't want this to get even more complicated."

"Too late," Bruce said dryly.

"You know what I mean!" I playfully slapped his forearm, "I know that you can handle yourself, Bruce, but he has so many resources. It's frightening. He's a sick and twisted man. I know that better than anyone else. And he's still in love with me."

"In love with you…? Even after all of this shit?" Bruce raised an eyebrow, "Now that is a man who won't give up."

"I know." I exhaled deeply.

Bruce put his arms around me, "Are you ok? You look a little rattled."

"I saw my sister's murderer today." I said.

He pulled away to look down at me, "I thought the Joker killed her?"

"Yeah, well, that's not even half of it. First of all, he didn't. He told me that her crazy ex-boyfriend did it. I didn't believe him – er, really, I didn't know what to believe – until yesterday when he spilled his guts out about it. He said that he influenced this guy to do it. So now I didn't know what to do. I had to find out for myself. I went to the prison today and I talked to him." My voice shook as I spoke.

He held me tighter, "Tell me about it."

As I explained the story to him, his face grew increasingly and increasingly sympathetic and horrified as it went along.

"And that's it." I leaned back against the pillows of the couch, "I called you, and here we are. I just needed to tell someone, Bruce. I was so upset. I had no idea it was anything like that. My whole view of things has been turned upside down over and over again."

"Well, not exactly," Bruce said, "It was still the Joker who instigated all of it."

"Yes, that's true." I admitted, "He's the one to blame for the fucked-up mess my life became, at least until I met you."

"Who, me or the Batman?" he smirked.

"Either or," I shrugged, "I just felt like I needed a purpose and a motivation to kill him, and I still have that motivation. It's just that…I almost felt sorry for him yesterday. He looked so broken-hearted that you and I were together. I…I almost couldn't bear to see him so down on himself. He's such a confident man, and for me to break him like that…it was sad, yet sort of empowering. Is that terrible of me to think that?"

"No, not at all," Bruce loosened his tie, "We all need a motivation to achieve our goals, Harley, and yours was that he eliminated the people that meant the most to him. As I said, I've been there and back countless times. You shouldn't feel sorry for him, because he made your life hell. I know that you feel sorry for him because he has feelings for you, but you need to let that go. It will only inhibit you from achieving what you set out to do."

"I'm well aware of that," I drew my knees up to my chest, feeling a sudden draft in the room, "I hate him so much. He just keeps spinning me in circles and waiting for me to fall back into his arms, or something. It's not like I was ever there in the first place."

"Didn't you sleep with him?" Bruce asked, taking off his jacket.

"I don't like to be reminded of that." My face flushed a most embarrassing shade of scarlet, "That was the biggest mistake I've ever made."

"You still did it." Bruce pointed out.

"Quit being a jerk," I said good-naturedly, unbuttoning his shirt, "Are you jealous or something?"

"Maybe," he muttered almost incomprehensibly.

I grinned, "You're such a man."

"I'd like to think that, yes." Bruce smiled, kissing me on the lips gently.

We kissed again, this time more deeply, and he pushed me backward onto the couch, attempting to get off my shirt.

In between kisses, I said, "I love you, Bruce."

"I love you, too, Harley." He kissed me more fervently.

As I smiled and tilted my head to kiss his neck, he sat up, "I think we need some wine."

"Why?" I asked, "Aren't we having fun?"

"Of course, but it wouldn't be tradition without our wine." He laughed, "Where do you keep your stash?"

"In the cupboard above the microwave," I called in reply.

He came back in a few minutes with two glasses filled halfway with some vintage wine. He handed one to me, and we tapped our glasses.

"To achieving our goals," he declared.

"Amen!"

We both took a long gulp of wine and stared at each other for a moment.

His eyes grew dark with lust, "Now, where were we?"

I giggled a little with anticipation and the after-effects of drink, "You might have to show me, Mr. Wayne."

"Gladly, Miss Quinzel," he leaned forward to kiss me…

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting the slumber party?" a snide voice asked from the entryway.

…

The room fell silent. Bruce and I sat up slowly, seeing the man that belonged to the voice.

"Oh my God," I whispered, immediately feeling sober, "No."

"Hello, Harley," the Joker said, smiling cruelly, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wayne. I had rather hoped that it wouldn't be under these circumstances, but ah well, beggars can't be choosers."

I was shaking all over; Bruce held me tightly.

"You two have nothing to say? Well, you're no fun at all." The Joker chuckled, "Did I catch you two at a bad time?"

"Don't be coy, Joker." Bruce finally spoke up.

The Joker, who had been idly looking at all my possessions, suddenly swiveled on us, "I don't think you're in a position to talk down to me, Wayne. You're the one with his hands all over my woman."

"She's not yours." Bruce said fiercely, standing up, "She's not your fucking property."

"You're like a broken record, Brucey. You've been listening to little miss Harley far too much for your own good. She's a little manipulator, you know. She made me believe that she cared about me. Really, dear, I swear, you should have been an actress. You even killed a guy for me. I couldn't fake my emotions that well. I applaud you." He clapped his leather-clad fingers together.

My blood was boiling at this point; I stood up.

Bruce made a motion for me to stay put, but I ignored him, "Fine, do like you always do! Try to tear people down just to make yourself look like the fucking martyr! I don't love you; get over it! I'm so done trying to explain myself to you. You barge in on my personal property acting like the fucking king of the domain or something. How did you even get in here?"

"Oh, that's an easy one, Princess." The Joker grinned when he saw the look of pure rage cross my features, "You know your neighbors, Kevin and Julia Murray?"

"What about them?" Now I was confused. My face melted into one of pure terror, "What did you do to them?! They have a little baby!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Harley. I didn't kill them." He looked bored, "You probably didn't know this about Kevin and Julia, but the two of them are high-class criminals, kind of like Bonnie and Clyde, without wanting to sound cliché. They've done everything you can think of; theft, graft, fraud, all of that fun stuff. They indirectly worked for me. When they wanted to retire with all of their acclimated wealth, I set them up with a nice little penthouse right here."

"You wanted to keep an eye on me." All of the pieces were falling into place.

"Bingo. Score one for Harley." The Joker's sarcastic tone was really starting to piss me off, "The fact that they're married is true, even that Julia was pregnant. I even sent them a nice card, for your information."

"Classy," I said, face dead-pan.

"Oh, don't be sassy." He continued, "I arranged it so that Kevin had a job he had to go to at the same time as when you had to leave so that he could make sure you were getting to the warehouse safely…or, well, getting there at all. He watched that penthouse door like a hawk, and notified me of who went in and who came out on a daily basis."

"So, that's how you knew that Bruce came here."

"Yes, Princess, don't you feel so betrayed? Don't you feel so fucking disillusioned? The people that you thought you could trust turn out to be a big, fat fake." The Joker was so close to me, I could feel his breath on my face, "Doesn't that just…hurt…you?"

I pushed him backward, causing him to stumble a little. Bruce leaped forward, and knocked the Joker to the ground, punching him in the face repeatedly. I saw the Joker's nose break and begin to bleed. The Joker retaliated by kicking Bruce in the chest.

"Bruce!" I cried.

Bruce got up immediately, and slammed the Joker right in the stomach, winding him. Bruce grabbed him around the torso, holding him tight.

"Harley, you want a few punches?" Bruce grunted with exertion.

"I'd like that, thanks." I stepped forward, and lifted my foot. I then proceeded to swiftly kick him in the balls, "That's what you fucking get for fucking with me!"

The Joker doubled over, "The two of you…are fucking…insane!"

"I'll kill you, motherfucker!" Bruce shouted, running to punch him again, but I held him back.

"Bruce, he's down. He can't fight back." I said quietly.

"I'll get him right now. Our job will be done, Harley." Bruce was panting, "Isn't that what you want?"

"Yes, of course, I just…" I stared at the Joker on the floor, almost crying with pain, "Not like this, alright?"

"Harley!" Bruce grabbed me by the forearms, "We can't just let him go! He's a fucking criminal! This is what you've wanted all along!"

"I know, I know, Bruce!" I felt the tears surfacing, "I just…I can't…watch this."

"I will do it now. You don't have to watch." Bruce said.

"Well…alright, ok, just do it, then." I said softly.

"Let me get my gun. It's in my briefcase." He walked away for just a moment.

Suddenly, I was up against the wall; the Joker had a knife against my throat.

"Fuck you, Princess. I'm going to kill you right here." He breathed heavily.

"HARLEY!" I heard Bruce shout.

I felt the cold metal against my throat, the slow trickle of blood beginning to stain my neck and the blade, "Please…"

"You've been conspiring with Brucey all this time to off me?" he whispered harshly.

"No, no, no, I swear!" I felt the blade press in closer to my jugular, "Please don't kill me. You love me."

"I thought I did." He said. I could almost feel the sheer pain in his voice.

The Joker turned me to face Bruce, backing up toward the window of the penthouse, "This isn't over yet, Wayne. I'll let her go for now, but you better fucking watch your back."

"I'll kill you now!!!" Bruce roared, running toward him.

The Joker pushed me forward, and I heard glass break as the Joker jumped out my window. Bruce leaned over the balcony, firing shots at him. The bullets bounced off the steel fire escape at the back of the building.

Bruce slumped to the floor, "He got away."

My breathing was shallow as I said, "I thought he was going to do it for sure this time, Bruce. I really, really did." I then burst into tears, and Bruce held me, rocked me back and forth as I cried.

**Next chapter: Never Live Freely Without Your Trace coming soon!**


	17. Never Live Freely Without Your Trace

**A/N: I've just been cranking 'em out lately. This is a little longer than the a lot of the chapters.**

**Enjoy, R&R, and I don't own these DC Comics characters.**

Chapter 17: Never Live Freely Without Your Trace

_So somehow you've managed to get under my skin_

_More than anyone ever did_

_And if every home makes a scar, and every scar marks its place,_

_Then I will never live freely without your trace._

"_Make-Up Smeared Eyes," Automatic Loveletter_

I was very shaken by the events of last night, so Bruce stayed the night with me. Neither of us slept very much. I think we were both thinking the same thing; that he would return, and soon.

Thankfully, he didn't, but the two of us got out of bed around 8 AM and Bruce made us some coffee. I sat at the kitchen table, holding the steaming cup of coffee in my hand. I stared at my reflection in the microwave glass. My eyes were so bloodshot, and my hair was in disarray. I looked a mess.

"I'm sorry that you have to see me like this, Bruce," I smiled weakly as I sipped my coffee, cringing at how bitter it was.

"Do you need more cream?" he asked.

"Yeah, that would be great," I said, and he took my cup.

"It's not a problem at all, Harley. I need to protect you from him." He opened the fridge, pouring a little more cream into my coffee, "I said I'd never date a girl with a crazy ex, but well…"

I had no choice but to laugh half-heartedly at that statement, "I'm sorry."

He handed me the cup, "Better?"

I sipped it, "Yeah, much better."

He sat down next to me at the table, grasping my hand, "We're going to get through this, Harley."

"I know." I said, "It just really blows right now."

"Are you alright?" he asked for the umpteenth time.

I involuntarily touched the scar that was already forming on my neck, "Physically, yes, but emotionally…I'm not sure yet."

"I understand," Bruce squeezed my hand tighter, "I know everything seems like it is going downhill fast, but we'll turn it around."

I sighed, "I really, really hope so. I just don't know how much more I can take without breaking completely."

"He wants your spirit to break." Bruce said, "He knows he actually scared you this time, and he's going to play on that. Are you going to see him again?"

"Are you crazy?" I stared at him, "Why would you even ask? The man is going to kill me!"

"If he was going to do that, he would have yesterday. He hesitated, though. He didn't do it, because he cares about you too much. You told him so. You saw how he faltered then. I saw how he felt. It was in his eyes." Bruce said pensively, "That will prove advantageous for us."

"But he hates you," I pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I can live with that." He said dismissively, "What really matters is that he's down and almost out for right now. It means we've got some time."

"To…?"

"Make the perfect plan, of course." He grinned.

"You know he's going to be expecting it."

"That's what we have to plan for, then," Bruce was unperturbed, "He will be on high alert. He may even send some assassins after you."

"That makes me feel so much better." I rested my chin on my palms, "Thanks."

"Sorry, I'm just telling it like it is." He shrugged.

"I know."

"I'm just trying to brainstorm here." Bruce paced the kitchen, "Well, first of all, we have to get you out of here."

"Yeah and how are we going to do that? He's got the Murrays watching me."

"Well, then we will have to do something about them first." He said, a grin slowly spreading across his face, "I think a little intimidation is in order."

…

So, fully equipped with a gun at my side and a handsome superhero next to me on my building's fire escape, we planned to enter the Murrays' apartment.

"I can see why the Joker likes that outfit." Bruce said, eyeing me up and down, "I could just tear all of your clothes off now and do you right here, Harley Quinn."

"Oh, please, Batman," I giggled, "You flatter me all too much."

He kissed me, which was slightly more difficult to do because of the mask, "You are such a sexy woman."

"You're not so bad yourself, but we need to focus." I rolled my eyes, but smiled at the same time with all the fondness in my heart.

"Yes, of course," he managed to tear his eyes away from me for a moment to peer through the apartment window, "I think they're sleeping."

"Well, it is 2 AM." I pointed out.

"Sarcasm is not attractive." He shot back at me.

"Well, that cape isn't, either, but you don't see me complaining about it."

"We don't have time for banter."

"Is it turning you on?'

"Very much so," he closed his eyes for a moment.

I made an over-exaggerated kissing noise, "You want to kiss me, and you want to fuck me…"

"Shut up; they'll hear you."

I pouted.

"Alright, on my count…" he said quietly.

I stiffened, ready for action.

"1…" we crouched down, "2…3!" we both somersaulted through the window.

I felt the glass scratch me slightly, but fortunately my suit was made of latex and was therefore much more durable than cotton fabric.

"What was that?" I heard Julia say.

"Maybe it was just the cat." Kevin replied, and I heard some movement from a few rooms over.

"They're coming!" I hissed.

"Be prepared, then." Bruce replied in a similar fashion.

Kevin and Julia both appeared in the living room, and froze when they saw us.

"Fuck, it's the fucking Batman!" Kevin exclaimed.

Julia was holding a small bundle in her arms.

"She's got her baby…" I groaned.

"That complicates things," Bruce, or, well, Batman said.

"What do you want from us?" Kevin asked, looking nervous.

"I know the two of you have been working for the Joker." Bruce as Batman said. I stared at him, amazed at how quickly he could transform his normal voice into that familiar, gravelly one.

Julia held the baby tighter, "What are you going to do to us?"

"Nothing for right now," Batman said, "I just need you two to promise that you won't communicate with him anymore."

"We can't promise that." Kevin said, "He'll kill us if we don't."

"Then at least lie to him. Say that you've seen Harley go in and out of her penthouse by herself, is that clear? Do not mention me, and do not mention Bruce Wayne. If I find out that either of you cracked, I won't be so nice next time." He cracked his knuckles accordingly.

"We have a child." Julia's lower lip was trembling.

Bruce's voice softened a bit, "I'm aware of that, Mrs. Murray. No harm will come to your baby, or to you, if you do what I ask."

Kevin and Julia looked at each other, and Kevin turned to face us, "May we have a moment?"

"Make it quick," Batman snapped.

The Murrays stood there for a few minutes, conversing quickly with each other in another language. It sounded like German, Romanian, something definitely Eastern European. I never put it together that they would change their names, but that seemed so obvious now.

Kevin spoke up first, "We will do what you ask, as long as you can guarantee that absolutely no harm will come to our child."

"I can guarantee that." Batman said, "That is very obliging of you, doing this for us."

"It's not like we have a choice." Kevin said bitterly.

"No, you don't." Bruce as Batman said harshly, "I just want you to make sure that the Joker has false information."

Julia glanced at me, "Are you taking her somewhere?"

"That's none of your business." I said, the first time I had spoken during this whole exchange, "I find it incapable to live in the penthouse anymore. I won't say where I'm going, because that will complicate things on either side. I don't want you two to have to lie completely, but it's not like I actually owe you two a single fucking thing, because you've been spying on me all this time."

"We did what we had to survive." Julia frowned, "We were going to go to jail."

"Rightfully so," I said, "You're criminals. That's where you deserve to be."

"Miss Quinn, that's enough," Bruce as Batman said firmly, "These people are doing us a favor."

"I know…I'm just still upset that I trusted you two." I folded my arms across my chest.

"You're a nice girl, Harley, and it was nothing against you." Kevin said, stepping toward me. Batman immediately moved closer to me.

"I still don't like you." I snapped.

"I expected that." Kevin sighed, "I don't want or expect you to feel sorry for us at all, but Julia and I were poor immigrants from Romania, not a penny to our name."

"Klaus…" Julia said softly.

"It's ok, Janna. We left because times were bad, and when we got here, we had no real skills and couldn't find jobs. We were basically homeless. So, we perfected the art of robbery. We had to survive. We came here to have a better life, and so we did. I thought when the Joker found out our identities, we were done for, but he made us an offer that we couldn't refuse. He set us up with this beautiful house so that we could avoid jail and paying taxes with ill-acquired money. All we had to do was keep an eye on you. It wasn't a difficult job at first, so we didn't feel bad about it. But once you and that millionaire started seeing each other, we had no choice but to tell." He paused.

Kevin or I guess his name was Klaus, continued, "We didn't want to do it, Harley, but as I said, we had no choice in the matter."

"I guess I understand." I admitted, "That still doesn't make you good people in my eyes, but I had no idea about your past. I'm truly sorry that you had to resort to the criminal lifestyle."

"Please don't report us." Julia – or Janna – said, "We want a good life for Margareta."

I bit my lip, and looked at Bruce, "Should we?"

"No, I think we've scared them enough." He replied.

Kevin and Julia both looked relieved.

"Thank you so much," Kevin said, "We will do our best to evade the Joker, but he's a very persuasive man."

"I'm well aware." I said wryly.

"Good luck to you both," Bruce as Batman said, "We will take our leave."

We headed for the window.

I turned back for a minute, "Oh, and uh…sorry about the window. I will pay for the damages."

And with that, Bruce swept me off onto the fire escape and onto the balcony of my penthouse.

…

Less than an hour later, Bruce and I settled into the hot tub in the master bathroom of my penthouse. I leaned into his chest, "That went pretty well."

"Yeah, I was glad it did. I was afraid I was going to have to fight someone." Bruce closed his eyes, relaxing.

"Same here," I affirmed, "It was sort of hard not to feel bad for them. I guess I had to keep reminding myself that they were hardened criminals."

"Yes, but they are people, too." Bruce put his arms around my torso.

"Yeah, that was the nagging thought in the back of my mind. I guess I was thinking about it. What if I was in that situation? I know nothing but being wealthy. I've never known the feeling of desperation and want."

"Me, either," Bruce massaged my arms, "I guess that's why we get along so well. People who are born into poverty never understand the rich."

"Yeah, you got that right." I snorted, "How many times I had to argue with the Joker…"

"Let me guess, his family were lower-class?" Bruce asked.

"Gee, however did you know?" I drawled, "Yeah, his father was an abusive drunk bastard, and his mom couldn't take it anymore, so she left when he was a teenager. He never recovered from that, I guess, never having a male role model."

"Well, neither did I, but it's what you choose to do about it that makes the difference." Bruce said, kissing my neck softly; I released a little moan of satisfaction, "I made myself into a success because I know that's what he would have wanted me to do. The Joker could have turned his life around; instead he turned to a life of crime and now he has to pay for it."

"I know, but still…you have to consider the facts of it. This is where my psychologist brain comes in; I apologize, Bruce." I said, craning my neck to look up at him, "Expectations mean nothing. You both lost a male role model in your life, so you had to replace it with something. You replaced it with self-discovery; he replaced it with debauchery. You had to think about what your father would have wanted from you. It depends on how you look at it. Bruce, you saw it as an opportunity to become your parents' dream. The Joker saw it as a way to spite them, to become famous for being infamous; what his mother would never have wanted from him."

"You over-analyze."

"It was my job." I shrugged.

He turned my body to face his, "Let's make love."

"In here?"

"Yes, of course in here." He laughed.

I smiled, and kissed him gently, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Harley."

We kissed more fervently, his hands running down my sides. He wrapped his arms around me, running his fingers lightly down my back. I shivered a little, and giggled despite myself, "You're giving me goose-bumps, Bruce."

He grinned recklessly, and I froze.

Their smile was almost the same.

"Are you ok?" he asked, his face falling, "You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"I'm fine, just thinking of…nothing." I shook my head, "I want to forget about him. Let's just continue, please."

"Alright," he said hesitantly, but seemed less hesitant when I kissed his neck, and began to kiss all the way down his chest.

…

I woke up the next morning, fully rested and naked in my bed, lying next to a sleeping Bruce, also naked. I smiled, getting up, feeling a little stiff. I put on a robe, and headed into the kitchen to fix us some coffee and cereal.

As I was about to go back into the bedroom with a tray, Bruce appeared in the kitchen wearing just some sweat-pants (he had brought a portion of his wardrobe from his penthouse), "Were you going to bring me breakfast in bed?"

"Yeah," I flushed.

He put the tray on the kitchen table, "Well, you're just a wonderful girl."

"Thanks. You're just a wonderful man." We kissed.

It felt so right, me and him. I sort of felt a pang of guilt, remembering how this had felt when I was with John, but I pushed the feelings away quickly. It didn't do me any good to dwell on the past anymore.

"Dude, are those Froot Loops?" he asked, pointing at the cereal.

"Yeah…" I smirked because he had such a look enthusiasm on his face.

"I haven't had those in forever! Alfred thinks I'm too old for cereal." Bruce dug into the Froot Loops like a fiend.

"Isn't Alfred wondering where you are?" I asked, suddenly remembering his existence.

"No, I explained the situation to him. He was trying to convince me to let you move into the penthouse with me, but I think it's safer to be here with you. It will be easier if we're together. I don't spend much time at the penthouse anyway. I'm sure Alfred is enjoying the alone time." Bruce said through a mouthful of cereal.

I suddenly got the image of Alfred doing the dance from Risky Business.

I blinked a couple of times to get the image out of my head, and sat down at the table, sipping my coffee, "That was some good sex last night."

"Hot tub sex is always the best." He said.

"You sound as if you're the expert." I raised an eyebrow, "How many women have you been with, anyway, Bruce?"

He choked on his cereal, "I'm sorry, what?"

"How many women have you been with?" I repeated myself calmly.

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah; it's not going to bother me." I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well…um…I have to think about it," Bruce bit his lip, lost in thought, "Well, there were those few random hook-ups at Princeton…a few other hook-ups with models…so I guess altogether, like 8."

"That's less than I thought." I said, "So with me, that would be 9?"

"Yeah," he said, "But you're the first serious girlfriend I've ever had."

"I'm your girlfriend? When was that decided?" I was totally delighted.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He swallowed his cereal, and took my hand, "Harleen Quinzel, will you please be my girlfriend?"

"Hmm…" I pretended to consider it, "YES."

"Ok, now that that's decided." He chuckled.

…

That night, Bruce and I were cuddled on the couch, watching (by that, I mean, making out while watching) the evening news, until something on the television caught our attention.

"Breaking news tonight," the news anchor said, "Gotham police are on the hunt for Dr. Harleen Quinzel, a former psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, and it has now been confirmed that she was involved with the Joker's escape from said asylum almost one year ago. She has recently been linked romantically to millionaire Bruce Wayne. News cameras have this footage of them walking into Gotham's own Café Blanca."

As Bruce and I stared, mouths agape at the television, a clip was shown of us entering the restaurant, arm-in-arm.

"Where did they get that?" Bruce asked, enraged.

"Shh, we need to keep watching!" I hissed.

"Dr. Quinzel has now also been confirmed as the Joker's sometimes accomplice, Harley Quinn. She has been going under the pseudonym for the last few months. She was last seen at the Gotham prison 2 days ago, visiting a certain Jordan Smith, the convicted killer of her younger sister, Margaret Quinzel. Officer Dave Hudson at the prison reported that she was 'hysterical' and 'should be committed herself for her behavior.'"

I made an indiscriminate noise at that statement. Fucking fickle media, corrupting people's minds, "I was nothing but nice to that man."

"We also have an exclusive interview with our anonymous sources who tipped us off to this shocking information. A couple who lives Dr. Quinzel's building reported that Dr. Quinzel as Harley Quinn broke into their home last night with the other vigilante called 'the Batman' and threatened their lives." The news anchor shook her head, "What could have made this girl go so wrong?"

It showed a photo me at my college graduation ceremony, accepting my doctorate diploma.

"Gotham police will be searching Dr. Quinzel's home as soon as possible to catch this cold-blooded villainess."

"FUCK!" I shouted, "What the fuck are we going to do, Bruce?! The Murrays ratted us out to the fucking police!" I was nearly hyperventilating; I was so scared.

Bruce jumped up, "You have to pack your bags right now. I will get my things in order and I will get us out of here so we can hide out for a while."

We rushed to my bedroom, where all of our things were.

I pulled a duffel bag out of my closet and started stuffing everything I possibly could into it, raging all the way, "Those sons of bitches! I knew it was too easy, Bruce! I knew we shouldn't have trusted them! They're fucking criminals!"

"Well, we made a mistake, Harley." Bruce said calmly, "We didn't know that this would happen."

"Where are we going to go?" I asked.

"We're going to my penthouse."

"Don't you think they'll look there next?" I bit my lip, "Now everyone in this city knows we're together, so wouldn't it seem suspicious if I wasn't here?"

"Do you want to go to jail?" Bruce grabbed my forearms, "I won't let you go, Harley! We're in this thing together now."

"I don't want you to sacrifice your reputation because of me."

"I don't care about that shit. You know that." He kissed me swiftly.

"Ok, if you say so…"

He threw a travel case with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and all sorts of odds and ends in it, "You're going to need these."

"Thanks." I stuffed them into a random compartment.

"Hey, do you think I'll need…?" I started to inquire.

"Shh!" Bruce snapped.

The room fell silent. I heard pounding sounds at my front door.

"POLICE, MISS QUINZEL! OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT NOW OR WE WILL BREAK IT DOWN!" a voice yelled.

"God damn it!" I muttered under my breath.

"We'll go out the back window." Bruce said, grabbing our bags.

There was a sound of the wood splitting on my front door, and running footsteps.

"Ok," I held onto Bruce, and he opened the window. We climbed outside onto the fire escape. He changed into his costume so quickly; I must have been hallucinating. I guess I just wasn't an old pro like him at the superhero business.

"Alright, away we go." He whispered, "Hang on tight."

"I hate heights," I whimpered.

"Close your eyes, then," he said, and he jumped.

**Next chapter: You Know I'm No Good**


	18. Something's Not Right

**A/N: Here's another one. Enjoy, R&R, I don't own these characters.**

Chapter 18: Something's Not Right

_I can feel inside_

_Something's not right_

_You would take the breath from my throat_

_And you would take the cherished people that I hold_

"_Invasion," Eisley _

Bruce and I were huddled together in his bed, refusing to let each other go. The police hadn't found us yet – thank GOD – but we were still beyond concerned that they would think to look for me here. Alfred had agreed to stall them as long as possible if they did arrive, at which point I would go down to the Bat-cave, or whatever Bruce called it.

The Bat-cave wasn't on any blueprints of the house, so the police would never think to look there. However, for right now, we could only wait.

"Do you think maybe we should, like, skip town or something?" I asked.

"I don't think that's in our best interest." Bruce shook his head, "They'll know we've left."

"But they won't know where we went." I pointed out.

"While that is a tempting idea, I really think we should stay here. If the cops come, I will distract them as Batman so you can escape. That's the plan we're sticking to, Harley." He said firmly.

"Bruce…?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared." I said quietly.

His grip around me tightened, "I'm not going to let them get you."

"I know you won't, but…I can't help it. Ever since the Joker almost…" I touched my throat where the now permanent scar marked its place. I shuddered, "I can't…I don't want to think about what would have happened."

"He won't kill you, though. You know that." Bruce reassured me, "He cares too much about you to do that. It would kill him to kill you."

"I know that, but…it still could happen." I bit my lip, "You're not being realistic."

"I want to be optimistic." He snapped.

My eyes widened at his sudden anger.

He closed his eyes, sighing, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I'm just really stressed right now."

"I knew we shouldn't have gotten involved." I exhaled deeply.

"Why do you say that?" he grasped my hand, "I love you, Harley."

"I love you, too, Bruce, but this isn't going to work if the Joker is going to tail us every minute that we spend together. That's not a life."

"That's why we have to kill him." Bruce said fiercely, "It will eliminate all of our problems. Then you and I can have a normal relationship – well, excluding the Batman thing – and after a while, maybe we'll get married, have kids…the whole perfect life. Harley, I want to give you the things you deserve. You've been through so much in your life for being so young, and so have I. You and I both need some stability. Maybe once we settle down, I will stop being Batman so I can be a father."

My eyes welled up with tears as he spoke, "Bruce, do you mean all of it? You really think we have a future together?"

He nodded solemnly.

I embraced him, "I wish things could have been easier for us."

"Me, too." He admitted, "This Joker business really puts a damper on things."

I smiled, the first time I had in a while, "At least you can put it lightly. I'm still scared shitless. I don't know if I can kill him myself, though…there's too much history there."

"I understand," his fingers stroked mine, "I can do it. You don't need to worry about that."

"I want to do it. I want to avenge my family." I said, rage boiling inside me, "I want to make him pay for everything he's put me through, leading me on a fucking wild goose chase over and over again. I can't take it anymore! I want him dead, and by my own hand!"

"That's the spirit." Bruce kissed me on the lips gently.

…

When we had eventually fallen asleep around 2 AM, I was suddenly plagued by another dream. It was not my sister. It was not even my mother or my father. It was me, ghostly white and translucent, like the snow that was beginning to cover Gotham that night.

_Harley…_

Oh, not you again.

_You're so close, Harley._

I know.

_You know what you have to do._

Please tell me. I'm not even sure what I have to do anymore.

_Avenge John, avenge Maggie, avenge your mother and father._

Where are they, anyway?

_Maggie is finally at peace._

She is?

_Yes, once you found out the truth._

I'm so relieved.

_She sends her best._

I send her mine in return.

_They all miss you._

I miss them all, too, so very much.

_You have Bruce now._

I know. It's not the same.

_He loves you._

What will happen to us?

_I know not of the future._

Not even a little hint?

_I'm afraid not._

Damn.

_I foresee happiness if you do what you set out to do._

Which is…?

_To get rid of that which plagues you most._

The Joker…

_In a name, yes._

Ok, I understand.

_Do you think you can accomplish this task?_

Is this not right, spirit? Is this against some type of moral code?

_If someone has wronged you, it is within your right to wrong them in return._

That's all I needed to know.

_Good luck. _

Thanks. I'll need it.

…

I woke up in a cold sweat. I punched the pillow in frustration. This dream again. What could it possibly mean? I still didn't understand the meaning or reason behind these premonitions I had, increasingly frequent since I met the Joker. Was it a message from some higher power? Or, was I just going insane?

I figured that I'd probably never know.

Bruce stirred in his sleep next to me, "Harley…are you alright?"

"Yeah, just a bad dream," I rubbed my temples.

"Do you…" he yawned, "…need me to hold you?"

"That would be nice, yeah." I snuggled into his arms.

He held me there for a long time. I know he fell asleep again, but I just couldn't. I glanced at his alarm clock, which read 5:42 AM. Of course, this is just my luck.

I'm fucking crazy and an insomniac.

I lay there, cradled in Bruce's warm arms, and closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, willing myself to forget about these nightmares for at least a few hours.

I knew I couldn't, though. It just wasn't going to happen, no matter how hard I tried. My thoughts drifted to Bruce, how much I wanted to live the life he was planning out in his head for us…the Joker really ruins everything he touches.

The Joker was everything I hated in this world. He was arrogant, greedy, crude, and…well, an egotistical maniac. Yet when he was so close to me, I felt the same sort of rush of emotion, the rush of dopamine to the brain, the rush of adrenaline through my coursing veins, pulsing through my thinned-skin wrists…everything I used to feel for him comes back to haunt me.

I have to stop psycho-analyzing myself.

I knew in the Joker's eyes, I was the image of perfection. I was everything he had ever wanted and I pushed him away. I left him. I made him feel cold, numb, and alone.

Well, he did the same to me. He deserved every fucking bad thing that comes to him.

I wanted to make him suffer. I wanted to see him suffer as much as I did that fateful afternoon, immobile on the cold ground in my wedding gown, the pure white glaring the sun. I would absolutely never forgive him for that. I would never forgive him for ruining my only chance to be loved unconditionally by someone.

But then, Bruce came back into my life, and I guess everything was beginning to right itself. We were going to achieve what we had always planned, to rid the world of a psychotic human being, an anarchist to the fullest extent, right? We were going to make the world a better place, a less dangerous place to inhabit. Innocent people were no longer going to die because he felt like it was necessary.

Who the fuck is he to tell us what to do?

Who the fuck are we to do what he says?

He's nothing but a piece of grimy shit on your shoe. He was nothing to me anymore. I just had to keep that mantra, even when faced with his sad eyes once again.

Those eyes…they always took me in, saw me for what I was, imperfect and perfect at the same time, like he said.

Why was I dwelling on this still?

It can't be that I still fucking care about him. No, that can't be – and won't be – it at all…

I need to sleep now. I need to stop thinking about all of these things.

My eyes began to droop…my thoughts began to cease…

Sirens.

Bruce and I immediately shot up in bed, and looked at each other.

The police were here.


	19. Too Close to the Fire

**A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. The song during the chapter is the same song from the chapter title, "21 Guns" by Green Day. It's an amazing song. (I also don't own it. Green Day does.)**

**Um...I hate to say it, but there's only one chapter left. Be on the lookout for it. This second part went by so much faster than the first! I can't believe it. Don't worry, faithful readers, there will be a third installment soon. But that will be the last. **

**I don't own DC Comics affiliated characters. I do however own my imagination. They can't take that from me!**

Chapter 19: Too Close to the Fire

_Did you try to live on your own?_

_When you burned down the house and home?_

_Did you stand too close to the fire?_

_Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone_

"_21 Guns," Green Day _

"Go!" Bruce pushed me toward the study.

"I can't go without you!" I cried, latching onto him.

He looked down at me grimly, "You have to, Harley. They can't catch you. Go to the Bat cave. I will be there soon."

He handed me my duffel bag.

I bit my lip, staring into his eyes for a moment with uncertainty.

"Go," he whispered gently, kissing me.

I went into the study and took a lingering glance at his retreating form. I closed the door behind me, and walked over to the piano and pressed the three magic keys. The book shelf swung open, and I entered the hidden hallway. I pressed the small button next to the entrance and it closed, leaving me in total darkness.

_Do you know what's worth fighting for?_

_When it's not worth dying for?_

_Does it take your breath away and you feel yourself suffocating?_

I whimpered a little to myself, frightened. Hey, sometimes you never let go of a fear of the dark.

Bruce hadn't mentioned this whole darkness thing. It was freaking me the hell out.

I felt around in the black for some kind of switch or something to turn the lights on.

As I stepped forward, suddenly torches lit up all around me.

Oh.

I stared down the hallway. I felt kind of like I was in the Phantom of the Opera's lair or something.

Feeling like I had no other choice, I went forward, careful of my step. I didn't know my way around here very well, and Bruce didn't exactly have time to familiarize me with my surroundings. We were just kind of hoping not to be found.

That worked out so well.

I finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, reached a large, open hallway. At least half a mile forward was the entrance to the Bat cave. How the fuck did Bruce get there so quick?

I picked up the pace, listening for any sounds of a struggle behind me. So far, so good.

Once I found a large steel door, I knew this had to be it.

I punched in the key code Bruce had given me earlier, and the door swung open slowly.

_Does the pain weigh out the pride?_

_And you look for a place to hide?_

_Did someone break your heart inside, you're in ruins…_

As the door closed itself behind me, I looked around. The place was fucking massive. There were vaults on each side; I'm not sure what they contained, and I'm also pretty sure I didn't want to know. A rifle range was in the middle of the room, loaded to the gills with all sorts of intimidating artillery.

The car I had seen in the news was off to the side. I approached it cautiously.

The heavy metal was bent and dinged up pretty bad. It had been through quite a few skirmishes in its day. Bruce said he had been fixing it up until he met me and got a little distracted.

_One, 21 guns_

_Lay down your arms, give up the fight_

I touched the steel, feeling the grooves. Lucius Fox had done an amazing job with it. It was built like a fucking tank, although I think that was the point.

I walked over to a desk on the opposite side of the warehouse. It was covered with a messy pile of papers; police reports, bills, stuff like that. There were six monitors and each had a different image.

One was of the warehouse itself. I could see me, staring up at the screens, looking worn out and beaten down in Bruce's old Princeton shirt that went down to my knees. I didn't exactly have time to grab that many clothes before we had been ceremoniously exiled from my apartment.

I thought about that for a moment. I probably should change into my costume. I did have it the duffel bag Bruce had given me.

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky, you and I…_

The blinking screens changed with movement as I put on my Harley Quinn costume. In an odd way, I was beginning to feel more comfortable in it than out of it. I suppose that was pretty fucking twisted. Even I could admit that to myself.

I inspected myself, noticing that the costume was tighter than I had ever pictured it. It's not like I had time to look in the mirror at it before I was off on an adventure. I knew it flattered me, but wow. It looked like it was literally glued onto my skin.

No wonder the Joker had liked it so much.

Wait, I mean Bruce…wait…

I don't know who I mean anymore.

_When you're at the end of the road_

_And you've lost all sense of control_

_And your thoughts have taken their toll_

The second screen bore an image of the penthouse above me. The study was empty, thank God. But where was Bruce?

My eyes scanned the screens for any sign of movement in the penthouse. I then saw unconscious bodies lying on the floor of the foyer. My hands drew to my mouth in an audible gasp. Those were cops, I could tell. Their guns were taken apart and left at their feet. Bruce was a quick worker.

Then another screen showed Bruce in his Batman costume, talking to Alfred. Alfred was on a cell phone, obviously trying to cover up what had just happened. I sighed with relief. Bruce was alright. That was all I cared about.

Bruce then moved out of the screen and eventually into the screen with the study. He was coming to get me.

I smiled to myself. I knew I could trust him.

_When your mind breaks the spirit of your soul_

_Your faith walks on broken glass and the hangover doesn't pass_

_Nothing's ever built to last; you're in ruins…_

Suddenly, Bruce was knocked over, a gun put to his head.

I screamed.

The man holding the gun was the Joker.

_One, 21 guns_

_Lay down your arms, give up the fight_

The Joker held the gun to his head as they both walked over to the piano. Bruce pressed the three keys in sequence and the door swung open.

They were coming to find me.

Oh my God.

I could see the Joker laugh at the screen, smiling up at it cheekily. He knew I was in the Bat cave.

They were coming, and soon.

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky, you and I…_

My breathing became shallow and ragged, my heart beat faster. We hadn't planned for this. What the fuck were we going to do? He was going to find out who Bruce was. He was going to know everything. The screen burned with his frozen, insane smile. I knew that smile was meant for me.

God help me now.

The only thing I could do now was wait.

I knew it would take them a little while. There was no use in hiding. There was nowhere to hide, to begin with, and I had to face him now. It was now or never, so to speak. I fingered the cold metal of the gun at my hip, knowing soon I would have to use it.

I would have to take his life. I didn't know if I was prepared for that.

_Did you try to live on your own?_

_When you burned down your house and home?_

_Did you stand too close to the fire?_

_Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone_

I would have to be prepared now.

I know Bruce and I agreed that he would kill him, because of my emotional attachment. I guess all that bullshit about emotional bonds during sex was right.

I couldn't be in denial anymore. This wasn't the time for it.

I love Bruce. I want to be with him. I want that perfect little life he described. I want it all, and I want it now.

And if the Joker stands in my way…well…that will be the end of him.

_When it's time to live and let die_

_And you can't get another try_

_Something inside this heart has died; you're in ruins_

I heard movement outside the door.

A voice spoke, muffled against the steel.

"Put the code in, Bat!" the Joker snapped.

"I'm getting to it." Bruce as the Batman mumbled.

They were so close. I took the gun out of the holster. I had to be ready.

The door began to swing open.

_One, 21 guns_

_Lay down your arms, give up the fight_

I held up the gun, my arms trembling with pure terror.

He was going to die now.

_One, 21 guns_

_Throw up your arms into the sky, you and I…_

"Miss me, Princess?"

They were here.


	20. Gravity

Chapter 20: Gravity

_I swore I'd never fall again_

_But this don't even feel like falling_

_Gravity can't forget_

_To pull me back to the ground again_

"_Halo," Beyonce _

"Let him go, Joker." I said firmly, fingers clenching the gun.

"You know what? I don't really feel like bullshitting around today, Harley." He said, rolling his eyes, "Put the gun down before I blow the Batman's brains out all over the floor."

My eyes widened, but I held my stance.

"No?" he cocked his head, "We don't feel like cooperating?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, irritated, "Let him go. Now."

"Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do, little Miss Harley Quinn?" he snapped, moving the gun closer to Bruce's head.

I gasped a little. A fatal mistake.

He looked back and forth between Bruce (as the Batman) and me, "Oh, I see now."

"What do you see?" Bruce snarled, keeping in character.

I was trembling, the gun clacking a little between my sweating fingers.

"You have been working together this whole time. I thought the whole stunt you pulled with the Murrays was a fluke, a momentary partnership." The Joker mused, "But, lo and behold, the two of you have feelings for each other."

"He is my colleague." I said. I couldn't hide the fear in my voice.

"How does Brucey feel about this?" the Joker chuckled, "I'd love to see the look on his face right now."

"Oh, I'm sure you would." I smiled ironically. He didn't make the connection.

The Joker's eyes flashed with anger, "You're not in a place to be sarcastic, you little bitch."

"Hey!" Bruce said indignantly, "She's a lady, and you talk to her like a lady!"

The Joker whipped him in the face with the gun, and Bruce fell to the floor.

I cried out, "NO!"

I made a move to run forward but Bruce called out, "No, Harley, stay there!"

I held back, much to my reluctance.

The Joker pointed the gun down at Bruce, "Don't you fucking tell me what I can and cannot say to that whore over there. I'm sure you know by now that she's a selfish bitch who manipulates you into thinking she cares about you, and then stabs you in the back."

The blood boiled in my veins, but I couldn't say a word.

The Joker crouched down by Bruce's face, "Do you care about her, Bat?"

"Yes." He said.

The Joker hit him in the face again, harder this time.

I bit my lip to keep from screaming. I could feel the tears streaming down my face. There was nothing I could do but remain frozen where I was.

"What did you say? I don't think I heard you right." The Joker said quietly.

"I said yes, you fucking bastard." Bruce croaked out.

The Joker kicked him in the stomach, and Bruce curled up in pain.

"You'll never have her. That's why you…" Bruce cringed, "…you do this to me."

The Joker's smug face contorted into one of rage and complete anguish, "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

He then proceeded to smack the man I cared about the most in the face with the gun over and over again. It was almost too much to bear, seeing Bruce taking all of this abuse for me. My feet were glued to the floor. I couldn't even breathe.

The blood ran down Bruce's face, and his cries of agony led me to do what I did. I don't know what possessed me. I had to do something, though, and fast. I wasn't going to let that son of a bitch beat my man to death.

I ran toward the scene, "STOP IT! RIGHT NOW!"

The Joker turned to face me, and I wound up my right arm and hit him as hard as I could in the face. I heard his nose crack and splinter, and it began to bleed.

He put his hand to his face, saw the blood, and stared at me in amazement.

"You…" he couldn't even process the words.

I stared him down, mustering up all the rage I felt in my heart, all the emotions I had been feeling since this whole thing began.

I held up the gun, cocking it, "I'm going to kill you."

"You don't have the guts." He replied, grinning.

I kicked the Joker's gun over to Bruce, who was trying to get up while I held the Joker at bay.

"You think I don't? After what you've done to me," I pointed to the long, jagged scar running the length of my pale neck, "You didn't see this coming at all?"

"Of course I did. In fact, I planned for it."

The cocky smirk on his face sickened me.

The Joker slowly reached into his pocket, and he felt around for something.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped.

"Oh, I think we could do with a little…obscurity."

All of a sudden, the room went pitch black.

...

"FUCK!" I shouted.

The Joker's laugh bounced off the walls around me, "Catch me if you can…"

"Br – Batman, where are you?" I called.

"I'm on the floor." He replied weakly.

"Let me know when I find you." I held my hands out blindly in the dark, still holding the gun. I walked around for a few minutes until I stumbled upon something.

"Ouch!"

"I found you, Batman." I flushed. Well, not like anyone could see it, anyway.

I knelt down on the cold stone of the warehouse floor, feeling Bruce next to me. My hands ran over the leather of his costume, pressing gently down on his chest cavity. I did know a thing or two about medicine, living with a doctor all my life.

"I think one of your ribs is broken." I said, grimacing, "How are you doing?"

"Not so good right now," his voice was fading fast. He needed to get to a hospital, and soon.

"I'm going to have to take the Joker down myself." I said with a shuddering sigh.

"No, I need to help you." Bruce protested. I felt him attempt to get up, but I pushed him back down as softly as I could.

"You need to stay here. Try to crawl for the door and get help. I can handle this myself." I said, trying to gather up my courage.

"You sound terrified." Bruce pointed out.

"Well, I have to do this." I said curtly, "Do what I said. We should have had a plan B, but you know what, this is what we have to do."

"Harley, Harley, Harley…" the Joker's voice said tauntingly, "Don't you know you couldn't kill me if you tried?"

I couldn't tell if he was close or far away.

The darkness was starting to get to me. My breathing became shallow, my throat began to close up a little…I was close to hyperventilation. I got locked into too many closets as a kid, alright?

"I have to go, Br – Batman." I stammered.

He grabbed my hand, putting into to his cheeks. I could feel wetness on his face near his nose and temples, and I felt sick as I realized he was losing blood, and fast.

"Harley…I love you." He whispered.

"I love you, too." I said in the same fashion.

I kissed him swiftly, "I have to go now."

"Alright," he said quietly.

As I stood up, he held onto my hand, "Harley?"

"Yes?"

"Kill that son of a bitch."

"I will, just for you."

I walked away from him, holding up my gun. I clenched tightly onto that cold steel, feeling the grooves grinding into the soft skin of my palm. My breathing was quick; I was trying to calm myself down, trying to stop my heart from beating so damn fast. I could feel it pulse throughout my entire body.

It's amazing what the dark can do to you. It is so frightening, yet so tranquil at the same time. It's an odd feeling, to be sightless. You have to rely on your other senses to guide you.

My ears perked up at the sound of a rattling in the corner.

I swiveled around to face the direction the sound came from. I listened for a moment.

Nothing…nothing at all…

I was getting paranoid or something.

"Getting warmer…getting warmer…" the Joker's voice echoed from behind me.

"Damn it! Come out, you fucker!" I shouted.

"That would just be too easy, now wouldn't it?" I could almost picture him sneering.

"What is this going to prove?" I bumped into a table, almost dropping the gun. I gathered my equilibrium, and moved on.

"Watch your step." His insane laughter was all around me.

It sent a chill up my spine, almost paralyzing me where I stood.

"GODDAMN IT!" I screamed, "I FUCKING HATE THIS BULLSHIT! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HIDING FROM ME?"

"No need to get so worked up about it, Princess…"

"You're a fucking coward, you know that? Are you scared of a little girl with her daddy's gun? Are you scared to face me because I betrayed you, is that it? Are you afraid to admit that you're still in love with me, huh, Mister J? You're so fucking pathetic!"

"Your words mean nothing to me now…"

"Of course they do! Stop being so cryptic about this!" I spun around as I walked, "You know I hurt you, and you can't admit it to yourself. You're upset because everyone in your life is a disappointment. Your father was a drunken bastard, and your mother left you when you needed her most. I get it, ok? It sent you over the edge that the girl you cared about the most left you."

"Don't start with me, Harley…"

"NO I WILL! I WILL!" I was backed up against a wall, "You deserve to hear this! You know what I think? I think you purposely push people away! You can't deal with the fact that you have emotions? You're upset because I didn't love you back, I get that! Believe me, I do! You took away the closest people in my life! I know what losing love is like!"

"Yes, of course, little miss Princess knows what loss is like…"

"WELL FUCK YOU THEN! I'm so fed up with this! Come out and face me like a man, goddamn it!"

"Find me first…"

"Do you even realize that there are people in this world worse off than you? I know what your problem is, Joker…you're fucking afraid to let anything good come into your life. You are so fucking afraid of losing someone again. It was a huge mistake to ever let you get into my head!" I was getting hysterical by now, "Let's just get this over with!"

"I'm right here."

"Where are you? I don't understand!"

"I've been here all along, Harley…"

"Stop playing games with me!" I shouted in exasperation, exhaustion.

"I'm done playing games now…"

And suddenly, I felt myself bump into someone.

The white powder shone slightly in the dark.

We both looked at each other for a moment.

"So it has to come down to this." He said. He sounded almost…sad.

"Yes," I said.

"Are you going to do it, then?"

"Yes." I said, and I shot.

…

He fell backwards, almost in slow motion.

I don't know where the bullet hit him, but suddenly, there was a loud rumbling noise above me.

The lights flickered on.

In the Joker's hand was a remote control of some kind.

It was then that I saw all the detonators on the walls.

So that's what he had been doing all this time.

He was going to blow the whole warehouse sky high.

I saw the red number flash.

_10…_

And I was going to go down with it.

I dropped the gun to the ground, and looked around.

_9…_

The Joker lay on the floor, blood pooling out from around his torso. The bullet had hit him in the shoulder. His face was expressionless as he stared down at himself.

_8…_

I looked for any signs of Bruce. He was gone. Thank God. At least one of us was going to make it out of here alive.

_7…_

I should have known this was coming.

_6…_

I sighed, closing my eyes for a moment.

_5…_

Of course, he wanted the both of us to die, just like a sick Romeo and Juliet twisted romance.

_4…_

Because this relationship…it's always been like this.

_3…_

It's what it's been all along.

_2…_

Just a case of mad love.

_1…_

CRASH!

I was buried beneath a pile of stone and ash.

I was paralyzed. I couldn't even move my legs. All I could see through the dust was the Joker stumbling out of the debris.

He looked at me for a long moment.

"You should have known it would end this way." He said.

"You are going to let me die here." I said matter-of-factly.

"It's what you deserve."

"Fine," I said.

"Fine?" he looked puzzled.

"Yes, fine. Just leave me. I can't look at your face anymore. It is not the last thing I want to see as I suffocate to death under here. I hope you live with the consequences of your actions. I hope you are plagued every night with the…" I coughed weakly, "…the thought of me here dying."

"I'm not going to regret what I did to you." He said coldly.

"That's your choice."

"Good-bye, Harleen Quinzel, I hope you will never forget what you did to me." I could see the tears stream down his face.

"I hope you will never forget that you killed the only person who ever cared for you."

His lip trembled…he opened his mouth to speak…but no sound came out.

He then turned on his heel and walked out into the night.

Well, here I am, alone.

Nothing to do now but wait for what's coming to me…

I guess I can't say I didn't think this would happen. Nevertheless, I wasn't prepared.

Well, I don't want to live in a world where the Joker wins.

I felt my lungs begin to close up, lacking air…my eyes sleepy and weary…my body numb…

Good-bye…

_And if I fall from the ceiling_

_You'll be down there waiting…_

_To finish me._

THE END…

?

If you want to continue with the Mad Love series, please check out Part III:

.net/s/5467038/1/Mad_Love_Series_Part_III_Inside_the_Fire


End file.
